


Bury Me In Burgundy

by Bargain_Bin_Batman



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves Friendship, Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Ben Hargreeves Whump, Body Horror, Dead Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Diego Hargreeves Whump, Gen, Ghost Klaus Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Klaus Hargreeves Whump, Klaus Hargreeves is dead and it is not okay, Self-Harm, Suicide, Whump, implied/referenced animal cruelty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26808862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bargain_Bin_Batman/pseuds/Bargain_Bin_Batman
Summary: Fic Summary: At age seventeen, Klaus Hargreeves kills himself. The now four remaining members of the Umbrella Academy (and Vanya) attempt to save face for the Academy, while each struggling with their own grief. Fortunately for them and unfortunately for Klaus, his power over death lets him come back to earth, if only as a ghost. But when the only person who can see him is Ben, whose grief is compounding with his own mental breakdown, can these two screwed-up brothers help each other, or will they just spiral in tandem?
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Diego Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, The Hargreeves Family
Comments: 42
Kudos: 150





	1. The Funeral

**Author's Note:**

> This is my whack at a Ben/Klaus swap places fic. It's becoming a bit of a behemoth, this is currently chapter one out of nine so strap in, but I'll say that means the story will have a nice slow build. I will say, the rest of the chapters won't be so graphic, but this one ends on a pretty rough note, so just know that. It's in the tags and summary, but still. Be safe, lovelies.
> 
> Another Ben/Klaus swap fic that I absolutely loved was Wish It Were Me by MissHowdoyoudo.  
> It's fantastic and was such an inspiration for me while writing this.
> 
> Update: I'm still working out the formatting on these, which is why the text keeps changing structure, sorry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: Not two whole days after Klaus' death, Reginald Hargreeves holds a press conference to tell the world the news. Reginald punishes Ben for grieving (because he sucks) and Diego stands up to his father for the first time in his life. Diego looks back on the funeral, and re-lives the night Klaus died.

The halls of the Umbrella Academy were silent as, in each bedroom, its members dressed for a funeral. It had only been a day since they had buried their brother, but Reginald Hargreeves, ever practical, had already organized a press conference to tell the world. The next morning, not even two days after Klaus died, there were news teams on the steps out front.

  
Thirty minutes before the press conference was to start, the remaining four Academy members finished getting ready. They were told to dress all in uniform in some sick attempt to make it look like they were still a team. As if they weren’t shaken to the core by what happened. God forbid the Umbrella Academy mourns their brother like normal people do. The only sign of mourning was the black of their thick winter coats. That and the things Reginald couldn’t hide; faces flush from crying, runny noses and red eyes, the bleak expressions of four teenagers who had very little sleep the past few days.

  
Five minutes now. Nobody wanted to step outside their bedroom doors. Nobody wanted to walk through the house that would be a little more empty forever, and face the mob of reporters outside their front door. That would make this real.

  
Resentment sat in their stomachs like a rock; it’s too soon to go public about Klaus’ death. The Hargreeves barely had time to process their grief before being shoved back in the spotlight. Nobody should get to see them like this. Nobody ever expects kids to put themselves back together this quickly, why do they have to?  
They were drilled by Reginald over breakfast on how to behave today. They must not break in front of an audience, they must stay a team. The fate of the world depends on it. _The fate of the world depends on us forgetting our dead brother as quickly as possible._

  
It was Grace who was given the job of going door to door, gently coaxing everyone out of their slumps and into a line. The message was clear: they were done with their mourning, time to be soldiers again. Vanya was to stay in her room, grateful for once to not be an official part of the Umbrella Academy.

  
Nobody spoke as they fell in line, Luther in front and Ben in back, for the thousandth time. Just this time there was an uncomfortable second where they left a space for Number Four. They stared at the floor as Grace led them downstairs, stopping in front of the mansion’s double doors. Grace took her place at Reginald’s elbow. He said nothing, just looked them all in the eye, as if to say “remember your rehearsals”. Because that’s all this was, another performance, a publicity stunt to make the Academy look good. They remembered his eulogy. They all knew how Reginald _really_ felt about Klaus’ death.

  
Grace, ever poised, floated over to the doors and pushed them open. It was the kind of winter day that made the season unbearable. It was bitterly cold, with wind that worked its way through every layer you had on and chilled you to the bone. The sky was a wall of grey clouds that allowed only harsh white sunlight through. Thick snowflakes fell, muffling the sounds of the city. The scene felt empty of all life.

  
Reginald marched out towards the podium, his children followed in a row. The reporters’ umbrellas formed a wall that blocked out the city around them. There was nothing but the row of grieving children and their father, up on the steps like a stage.

  
His children shivering behind him, Reginald Hargreeves plucked his statement from his coat pocket and began:  
“There is no death more honorable than sacrificing oneself for the greater good. Number Four fought valiantly when he helped save twenty hostages at the Commonwealth Bank incident not two days ago. He unfortunately was mortally injured during this mission, and perished from his wounds not long after. He did not save the world, but he was selfless until the very end, and the families of those twenty hostages will be eternally indebted to him.”

  
Reginald carried on, slathering more praise on Klaus in death then he ever did in life, but Diego wasn’t listening. He was thinking of the real funeral. The siblings had already been forced into a huddle in the snow. They had stood in the courtyard yesterday, numbly staring at Klaus’ coffin as their father hurled insults at his dead son.

~~~

 _“There is no death more honorable than sacrificing oneself for the greater good. Number Four deprived his death of any meaning by sacrificing himself for no one’s good but his own.”_ That’s what he said about Klaus, whose name he couldn’t even say, and still can’t. His son, whose life he made a living hell. Diego couldn’t pretend to have known Klaus all that well, especially now that they all knew what he had been hiding, but he knew how Klaus turned to drugs to try to shut up the ghosts screaming in his head. He knew about Reggie’s training sessions that bordered on torture. They all had.  
 _“I have rescued you from worthless mundane lives, taken you in and trained you for the sole purpose of saving the world. Number Four seemed to think that ridding himself of his temporary problems by killing himself was more important than his duty to humanity. Perhaps-”_

  
Diego stared at the ground, fury making his heart race. He clenched his fists and fought the urge to deck the old man.

  
 _“-His visions had begun to render him quite useless in combat. Perhaps this was in the Academy’s best interest.”_ One of the girls, maybe Vanya, choked back a sob. Diego snapped and lunged towards their father, but Luther caught him by the arm and held him in place. Diego whipped around.

  
“You’re really gonna let him talk that way about Klaus!?” Diego yelled. “For fucks sake he was our brother! He wasn’t a soldier, he was a fucking kid!” His voice got louder and louder. Tears streamed down Luther’s face, but his expression was stony. He remained in place, looking to Reginald for what to do next.

  
“Number Two, if you cannot control your temper you will leave this instant.”

  
“Fine!” Diego used his free arm to shove Luther away with as much strength as possible. It didn’t do much but Luther still winced. Diego stormed back into the house, hearing the muffled sobs of his siblings behind him. He hadn’t said a word to his family since then.

~~~

There was a flash of camera bulbs and somber applause. With a start, Diego came back to the present. The press conference was ending. The family marched back into the house the same as before. Grace shut the doors, the heavy _thud_ echoing through the silent room. They had privacy again. Reginald looked at them all in turn.

  
“You have done what I asked of you. You all are dismissed until dinner.” With that pep talk, he turned and strode down the hall and into his office. It was Grace’s turn.

  
“Your father is a very busy man, with very important obligations to get back to,” she pursed her lips. She seemed to know that wasn’t the right thing to say. “I wish I could-”

  
“It’s okay, mom.” Diego’s voice was hoarse. Being a robot who was built to take care of the children, Grace hadn’t quite known how to react when one of them had died. The others thought this was just because she was a robot. That even though she seemed to love them, it was all just programming, and Reginald had failed to take death into consideration. Diego knew this was wrong. Grace loved them in a way so human, and so far from what their father thought love was, that she had to have a consciousness of her own.

  
“I should start on dinner, do any of you kids need a snack?” Grace put on a cheery facade. It was Allison this time who spoke, equally hoarse:

  
“No, thank you, mom. You go ahead.” Grace smiled flatly and left the siblings alone. They stiffly stood in a circle, silent again. Diego looked at Allison, but she seemed to have had just enough strength to respond to Grace, and no more.

  
“Should we talk about what just happened out there?”

  
“See you guys at dinner,” Ben said, before practically sprinting up the stairs. Luther followed suit. Allison gave Diego a little smile, grateful for his effort, but followed her brothers. After a few minutes, Diego went up to his room, where he stayed until Grace called them for dinner.

Dinner was particularly uncomfortable that night. Nobody wanted a repeat of what happened yesterday at the funeral. The Hargreeves filed downstairs and took their places behind their chairs, waiting for their father’s permission to sit. Everyone except Ben.

  
Nobody was sure what to do. The Hargreeves knew better than to test their father’s patience by doing things like being late to dinner. The only times it ever happened were when Klaus was passed out or otherwise in a drug-induced stupor, and Reginald had been furious. Diego shuddered to think of him yelling at Ben the way he had Klaus. Klaus had a thicker skin than anyone when it came to their father, which only pissed him off more. Ben wouldn’t stand a chance.

  
Reginald emerged from his office, taking his seat and ordering his children to do the same. It was only once he glanced up from the book he had carried in with him that he realized there was an empty place at the table.

  
“Grace, would you please help Number Six find his way down to the dining room?” Reginald’s tone was icy. The siblings braced for the worst, the room dead silent except for the occasional clinking of silverware. Diego turned a butter knife over and over in his hands.

  
They heard the clicking of Grace’s heels, and she appeared in the doorway, Ben half-hidden behind her. He looked tired but on-edge, like he was daring anyone to make fun of him for crying. Grace moved to pat Ben on the shoulder, but he shrugged her off and went to his seat, and she returned to her place beside Reginald. Diego tried to make eye contact with Ben from across the table, but Ben was refusing to look at anyone.

  
“I will not insult your intelligence by asking if you realize you are late, Number Six,” Reginald addressed Ben.

  
“I’m having trouble seeing why it matters,” Ben mumbled. Everyone in the dining room froze.

  
“The very least you could do as a member of the Academy is be on time. You have a duty to humanity to function as a team and if you cannot manage that, then you are a failure. I will not have anyone else abandoning their duty like Number Four did.”

  
“Klaus was-”

  
“Number Four was my greatest disappointment. But you, Number Six, are well on your way to becoming my second!”

  
Ben curled in on himself like he’d been punched. Diego stabbed his butter knife into the table. The others winced. Diego stood and looked his father in the eye.

  
“His n- name was Klaus. You can’t even say it. You t- take good kids like Klaus and you p- p- poison them. You call us selfish for w- wanting to be treated like humans. Y- you’re a fucking monster.” Diego stomped out of the room, hiding his burning red cheeks. Nobody stood up to their father like that. Ever. _He should have felt terrified_ , he thought as he climbed the stairs. _He sure as hell was going have to deal with Reggie’s anger tomorrow, when he’ll have thought up a proper punishment._ Diego felt an ounce of relief as he shut his bedroom door. But it had been a long day, and what happened at dinner was just one shitty thing too many.

  
Diego sat on his bed for a long time, fuming. He hated the shitty fake funeral and the reporters that ate it up. He hated how Reginald could always bring his stutter back out despite years of speech therapy. Most of all he hated how Ben, who had been through more hell than any of them, except maybe Klaus, was becoming Reggie’s personal punching bag. All because he wasn’t done mourning his best friend after two goddamn days. None of them knew what to do without Klaus, but Ben was feeling it the hardest.

  
Klaus had always been the one to stand up to their father, especially when he was pushing Ben’s powers to their limit on missions. Everyone else was too scared to say anything to Reginald, about anything. Except for Diego. He wasn’t scared. He just knew his options were either to keep his head down or have Reggie push every single one of his buttons and send him into a blind rage. Like at the funeral. And at dinner.

  
And that was nothing compared to how monstrously he treated Klaus. But Klaus never got angry. Or if he did, he funneled it all into making Reggie’s life as hard as possible. He stayed unruffled out of spite, to prove Reggie could never get the best of him like he did with the others. Diego never understood how Klaus turned to apathy instead of fury, he had every right to hate their father. _But, then again_ , he thought as he drifted off to sleep, _maybe Klaus had been full of hate after all._

~~~

Diego had the same dream he’d been having the past two nights:

  
It was 11 at night. He had set down the book he was reading in an attempt to get tired (his sleep had been bad for a while now) and walked to the bathroom at the end of the hall. The door was locked, and no matter how hard he pounded on the door, it stayed shut. This wasn’t an uncommon thing when you live with five other teenagers, but still annoying as hell. Sighing, he stomped back to his room, where he spent the next half hour throwing knives at random targets he picked around his room, mainly people on his posters. The whole time he kept his door open, waiting for the bathroom door to open so he could yell at whoever was taking so long.

  
This got boring eventually, and Diego started going down the hall, knocking on everyone’s doors. Luther, who clearly had been asleep, swore at him before slamming the door in his face. Allison, who was Diego’s best guess at the culprit, what with all the celebrity and makeup and stuff, was standing at the windowsill when he opened the door. She turned, smashed a cigarette into the metal railing outside the window, and frantically yelled at him to get out. Klaus was next. No response from knocking, that wasn’t a surprise, he usually had his headphones in. He also minded the least when Diego came knocking, so he let himself in. Klaus’ room looked the same way it always did, filthy and full of stereotypical stoner shit, but with no Klaus. _Bingo_ , Diego thought.

  
He made his way back down the hallway to the bathroom. That explains why nobody answered the door. Klaus had an incredibly annoying habit of taking baths and blaring music as loud as possible, he must have used his headphones this time because everyone kept complaining.

  
But something nagged at Diego. Klaus usually did that at two in the morning, which was why it was so annoying. But it wasn’t even midnight yet. Diego reached the door, pounding on it one more time.  
“Klaus? Dude I know it’s you in there, you need to stop hogging the bathroom.” Nothing. Diego sighed. It was late, he was exhausted, he had his ass kicked today at a useless publicity stunt of a bank robbery mission, and here was Klaus, not considering anyone but himself. Again. He took a couple steps back from the door.

  
“You’re paying for new hinges!” Diego yelled, then kicked the door in. There was a _bang_ when his foot collided with the door and a bigger _bang_ when it swung around and smacked the bathroom wall. Then the clinking sound of shards of ceramic tile hitting the floor. Diego winced, turning to look back down the hall just in time to see Luther poke his head out again.

  
“Just wondering, what the hell is wrong with you?” Luther mumbled, half-asleep.

  
“I’d say sorry for interrupting your beauty sleep, but I don’t think a coma could fix what’s going on with your face”.

  
Luther held up his middle finger, then disappeared back into his room. Diego turned back to the bathroom. As he expected, Klaus was hunched down in the bathtub, only the top of his head visible. He had his headphones on over the curly mess that was his hair. Diego turned to the towel rack.

  
“Klaus, you’ve gotta stop hogging the bathroom, I swear to god.” He threw a towel over his shoulder. “And I wasn't kidding about the hinges. I’ve seen your weed guy, I know you’re making money to pay him somehow. I won’t tell dear old dad how it happened, but you’re paying to fix the door.”

  
Diego turned around. Klaus hadn’t caught the towel. He’d let it land in the tub, and it was starting to soak up water. But. _But the water was-_

Diego’s heart sank. His stomach turned upside down, and he spun around and threw up into the sink behind him. He coughed as he rode the wave of nausea. He didn’t want to turn back around. He wanted to stay here forever, with this sink full of vomit. That would be much easier than what was behind him. He stayed this way for... seconds? Minutes? Just feeling his heart pound. Diego clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He gathered as much strength as he could and took wobbly steps towards his brother in the tub.

  
The part of the towel that had landed in the tub was now thoroughly soaked through with red. Another bout of nausea overtook Diego as he forced himself to move the towel and face the rest. He was still in his uniform, at least, his slacks and dress shirt. He was curled up in almost a fetal position, his bony pale feet pushed against the far wall of the tub. His arms were wrapped around his shoulders in a hug, like an attempt at comforting himself.

  
His face was where Diego lost it altogether. Klaus didn’t look dead. He was ghostly pale, but the lines of worry and exhaustion were gone from his face. He didn’t look like an Umbrella Academy kid, burdened with the weight of the whole world. He actually looked seventeen. And he looked asleep, his face scrunched up like a little kid having a bad dream, something scary that his parents would insist wasn’t real as they smoothed his hair and comforted him.

  
Diego swallowed hard, but felt like there was a marble in his throat. He plunged his hands into the water, not caring how his own sleeves came away stained, and hoisted his brother out of the tub, drawing Klaus close to him. His head lilted and came to rest under Diego’s chin.

  
 _“It’s possible he wasn’t dead yet”_ was the only thought in Diego’s mind. It repeated itself over and over as his shaking hand flipped one of Klaus’ arms over to check for a pulse. More nausea as Diego gently placed his fingers on either side of an impossibly deep gash. But his own heart was pounding so loudly in his ears, he could do nothing but sit there, crying in frustration as he searched for Klaus’ heartbeat.

  
_Mom. She could help._

  
“M- mm- m-”

  
Diego tried, again and again and again, to form the word. It was the easiest thing in the whole world, but he shook as he fought his own mouth. Diego stuttered, his tears of frustration were mixing with fear now, _what if Klaus died while he was trying to say one stupid word?_ He pounded his fist against the tile floor with all his strength. Diego grabbed Klaus with his now-throbbing hand, sobbing into his shoulder. He was vaguely aware of someone coming down the hallway, stopping at his feet.

  
“Mom!” Diego felt a wave of relief as he heard Luther cry out, “Mom, oh my god, help! Please!” Luther sank down next to Diego, wrapping his sturdy arms around the both of them. It was only a minute before Grace hurried down the hall. Every single bedroom door opened as she passed.

  
What happened next was a blur. There was crying, although whether it was from Diego himself or not he couldn’t tell. Grace gently lifted Klaus in her arms, and said something to Diego, stroking his cheek as she did. She left, taking Klaus with her. Luther stayed, holding Diego as they sat on the cold tile floor. The others slowly filed into the bathroom, all taking seats, trying to ignore the red-tinged water in puddles around them. Everyone was silent as one hour, then two passed. Diego nodded off, the exhaustion of the night finally taking him.

Diego woke up in his bed. It was still dark outside. He pulled himself up out of bed and padded down the hall to the bathroom. He winced. The door was still broken. He beelined to the sink, turned the tap and splashed water in his face. Diego walked over to the bathtub and sat down hard, gripping the porcelain. The rust-colored stain around the tub was still there.

  
Every time he woke up, Diego hoped his dream was just a hellish nightmare. And every time, he was wrong. It had been three days since Klaus died, and Diego wondered if he would ever dream about anything else.


	2. Séance for The Séance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben believes Klaus' powers could give him some sway over death, and spends the day convincing each of his siblings to help him with a séance to bring Klaus back as a ghost. We get a look into how each sibling is grieving their dead brother. They perform the séance, but it fails, and Ben snaps at his siblings when they try to console him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last Klaus-less chapter in a fic with Klaus listed as one of the main characters, I promise.

Grace and Pogo conspired to get the children a couple extra days off. They rattled off something about how the children needed to be available for interviews. The more news channels and tabloids pick up their version of events, the less likely anyone would suspect the Umbrella Academy was lying about Klaus’ death. In their own way, the two were trying their hardest to give everyone a bit longer to grieve. None of the Hargreeves siblings said it, but they were grateful.

The mansion was the tiniest bit more lively that day. The siblings began to leave their rooms, curling up in places like the library, or by the fireplace in the living room, or doing chores around the mansion. They broke their silence, occasionally speaking to one another in hushed tones. Not about anything serious, and especially not about Klaus, just anything to try and lighten the mood. 

~~~

Ben found Diego in the kitchen, making quiet small talk with Grace as he helped her wash dishes.

“Hey, Diego,” Ben greeted his brother with a weak smile. “Mom, would it be okay if I talked to Diego alone? I can do the dishes if you want.”

“That’s okay, honey, you go right on ahead.” 

Ben flinched as Grace smoothed his hair. She turned and left the kitchen, gently shutting the door behind her. Ben shuffled from foot to foot awkwardly.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Please. Anything you need. I’m just glad you’re.. yeah. Anything.” Diego was never good at this feelings stuff.

“I’ve been thinking. About… about Klaus?” Ben had been keeping his voice steady, but choked up on his brother’s name. He took a breath. “We know ghosts are real, right? Because he saw them. _All the time_. And.. and we know that Klaus never… that he never lived up to his potential?” He was talking faster and faster now. “Because that’s what dad kept saying, right? That’s what he kept telling Klaus, that he could do so much more with his powers than what he did? And when he- When he died. That’s what dad said. That he was selfish for wasting his powers… and stuff?”

“And stuff, yeah.”

“Well I was just thinking, what if he’s, like, a ghost? And he was strong, I know he was strong, what if he could make himself appear to us, if we asked him to?”

“Like a séance.”

“Yeah.” Ben looked almost fragile, like he couldn’t bear to have his dream of seeing his brother again shut down, which he probably couldn’t. Diego sighed. This was the closest thing to happiness his brother had shown in days. He didn’t want to shut Ben down, not when he came to him for help, even if that help was to summon a ghost. Diego wouldn’t say it, but even if Klaus _was_ a ghost, he doubted the guy wanted to be bothered. 

_Anything that’ll help Ben cope, I guess._ Diego wasn’t as good as his siblings at talking about emotions. He never knew the right things to say. But he cared about Ben and frankly, his brother was starting to worry him. If all Ben needed to start feeling better was to feel like Klaus was still around as a ghost, why should Diego tell him any different? 

“Okay, bud, I’ll help.”

Ben let out the breath he was holding and smiled, the first one in a while. 

“Thank you. I can’t tell you what it means that you’ll help me.” Ben ran a hand through his hair. “Now I just need to convince everyone else.”

“You’re asking the others?”

“Yeah, I need all the help I can get. What, do you think they won’t help me?” 

Diego sighed. Honestly? He didn’t know. Allison might. He never knew what Vanya thought about things, and this was no exception. Luther could be sympathetic, or he could rat his brother out to Reginald in some shitty attempt at help. Predicting his family’s moves and countermoves felt like a game of chess. Nothing was ever simple with them. But they all should be able to suck it up and support their brother, at least for this, right?

“I hope they help, Ben, really. I think everyone wants to see Klaus again too. Just, be smart about it, okay?”

Ben looked puzzled at Diego’s answer, but didn’t want to push his luck. 

“Okay, Diego. I will.” Ben left the kitchen. Diego halfheartedly scrubbed a plate, mulling over the conversation he’d just had.

~~~

Allison slammed her phone down after rejecting the fifth interview invitation of the day. The magazine “journalists” were like vultures, swarming Allison for every drop of information about her dead brother, and more importantly, how _she_ felt about her dead brother. She was grateful the funeral was private, otherwise there would already be a spread about what she wore.

The tabloids were already suspecting that Reginald’s story about the bank robbery was a lie. Which shouldn’t have been too much of a cause for alarm, they had had a similar field day when Five disappeared and nothing ever came from that. But Klaus was the second of the Umbrella Academy to... leave, and actual journalists were starting to pick up on what might be going on behind closed doors. 

The running theory was that Klaus had overdosed, and the Academy was too ashamed to tell the world the truth. “He is a junkie after all, it’s bound to happen,” tabloid after tabloid had said, even before he died. At seventeen they had already decided Klaus was as good as dead. And they were right. 

Allison never cared too much for Klaus, she always hated how little he cared when his string of addictions and rehab visits filled the tabloids. She could never get away with so much as snapping at reporters when they asked her about Luther, or how such a nice, pretty girl like her could fight alongside her brothers. She needed to be constantly aware of how everything she did could be dissected, while Klaus got high to avoid solving his problems. 

And then Klaus turned up dead in the bathtub, and all of Allison’s anger at Klaus sat in her stomach like a rock. She hated herself for not seeing how much Klaus was hurting, but that didn’t mean she had to love the guy, he still was kind of an asshole. The only one of them he ever really cared about was Ben. But Klaus had killed himself and that’s not what you’re supposed to say about people who kill themselves.

Nobody could ever know how much she had resented her brother. Just another part of her life she had to fight to keep hidden from the media. Allison was getting good at bottling things up. She was an actress, after all. 

There was a soft knock on her bedroom door. 

“Allison?" Ben’s voice came softly from the other side. That snapped her out of her rant. She opened the door and gestured to him to come inside. Ben sat stiffly on the edge of her bed.

“How are you holding up, Ben?” Allison asked.

“How are any of us holding up?” Ben asked, to no one in particular. 

“I’m asking you.” 

Her brother was quiet.

“That’s actually kind of what I came here to talk to you about. I’ve been researching some stuff, and I think there might be a way for us to see Klaus again.” This was not where Allison had expected the conversation to go. 

“Ben, I don’t know if-”

“Just promise me you’ll hear me out? Please?” He seemed so defeated, Allison couldn’t say no. She sighed.

“Okay, tell me what you’re thinking.” She eased into her chair. Ben’s eyes lit up like they used to when he would rave about the latest novel he read.

“Well, we know that ghosts are real, right? Klaus taught us that himself. And dad always said that his powers had way more potential than he ever knew. What if Klaus could use his powers to make himself appear to us? I know he would if we asked him to.”

The room was silent as Allison processed all this. She didn’t want to tell Ben that just because Klaus could sense dead people, didn’t mean that ghosts existed, or that anyone other than Klaus could see them. And she didn’t want to tell Ben that trying to summon the ghost of his dead brother would probably do more harm than good to his grieving process. They were supposed to be moving on, right? But Ben had been closer to Klaus than any of them, and this was the first time since Klaus died that Ben seemed to care about anything at all. 

“All right, I’ll help you.” Allison went to lay a hand on Ben’s shoulder, but before she could, he stood up and walked to the door. Opening it, he turned to her, a small smile on his face.

“Thank you, Allison. Really. I just hope Vanya and Luther take it as well as you did.”

“Wait, what? Ben-” Allison started, but he had already shut the door behind him. She seriously doubted her siblings would handle Ben as well as her.

~~~

Ever since she was little, Vanya had envied her siblings for their powers, dad made sure of that. Then they grew up, and Klaus and Ben had all but changed her mind. Seeing Klaus deteriorate from the inside out as the ghosts he saw tormented his every sober moment, and hearing how The Horror ripped through Ben’s stomach again and again on missions made her happy to be ordinary, for once. Her siblings knew how badly she wanted to have powers, even with how hard their father pushed them to reach their “potential”. Vanya knew how much her siblings probably hated her for those thoughts. 

So when Klaus died, she knew it was best for her to stay out of everyone’s way. How could she want powers so badly, when Klaus’ had killed him? So Vanya shut herself off in her room to cry instead. She didn’t want to make things worse by saying the wrong thing. Which is why she was so surprised when Ben came knocking the day after the press conference. 

“Ben?” Vanya cracked her door open enough to see her brother standing alone in the hallway. 

“I’m sorry for bugging you, do you think I could ask you something?”

“You’re asking _me_ for advice?” Vanya scoffed, before she could stop herself. Ben looked hurt. 

“Yeah, I am.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean..” Vanya trailed off. She wasn’t sure what she meant. “I just…” she cut herself off before she could misspeak again. She opened her door all the way and gestured inside. “Come on in, Ben, tell me what’s on your mind.” Ben sat down on her bed, fidgeting with the corner of her blanket as he told her his plan. 

“I know it seems crazy, I just-”

“I’m in,” Vanya interrupted. Ben blinked.

“Really? Just like that?”

“It makes sense. He can’t just be… gone. He can’t. You know how strong he was.” 

Ben smiled.

“Yeah, I do,” He laughed with relief. Vanya felt warmth in her chest. Ben had come to her for help. Not because he had to, he wanted to. And she had managed to make her brother smile. He couldn’t know how much that meant to her. 

“I miss him too, Ben. We all do. I’ll help however I can.”

“That’s okay, I’ve got almost everything worked out already. I’ll just need you for the séance tonight. I’ll let you and the others know when we’re starting.” 

Vanya swallowed hard.

“Others?”

“Oh, sorry, yeah. I know you all don’t get along that well, but I was hoping we could put that aside and do this together, for Klaus?” 

Vanya pursed her lips.

“Of course. For Klaus.” 

“Thank you, Vanya. For everything,” Ben shut the door behind him as he went, leaving his sister to dread her upcoming meeting with her siblings.

~~~

Luther was halfheartedly messing with a model plane when Ben knocked on the door. His brother stood in the doorway, unsure if he was allowed to come in or not.

“Hey Luther, can I ask you something? About Klaus?”

Luther frowned. 

“Dad said we weren’t allowed to talk about him anymore.”

Ben winced. 

“I know, I just thought that you might… still want to.” 

Luther looked up from his model. His brother looked positively heartbroken, still hovering in the doorway. 

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I do. Of course I do. I’m sure dad will understand.” Neither brother corrected this obvious lie. Ben smiled gratefully and joined his brother at his desk. Luther was silent as Ben told him his plan. When he was finished, Luther sighed.

“It’s a bit of a leap of logic…”

“It isn’t though. You don’t know his powers like I do. He can do it, I know he can.”

“Ben-”

“Don’t you want to see him again? I want- I _need_ to tell him I’m sorry. Don’t you?” There was a shift in the room. Luther furrowed his brow.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Luther. You know dad pushed him too hard, and none of us said anything about it. You can’t pretend we didn’t at least-”

“I don’t control Klaus. I didn’t make him act like an _asshole_ in and out of training. I didn’t make him get high while all the rest of us had to pick up his slack. I didn’t make him piss off dad again and again until he had no choice but to-”

“You don’t know half of the _hell_ dad put him through,” Ben’s tone was as icy as their father’s. “You have super strength. You punch whoever dad tells you to. Klaus can’t- couldn’t turn the ghosts off. Ever. And that still wasn’t enough for Reginald,” he spat out the name.

“Klaus was the lookout. His job was to stand in the hallway while we- while _you_ did the dirty work, Ben.”

Ben tensed up.

“Forget it. I just thought you might feel the tiniest bit bad about our brother killing himself, but you really are our father’s son.” He stormed out of the room, knocking Luther’s model plane over as he slammed the door. Luther put his head in his hands. He felt bad about Klaus, of course he did. But he couldn’t lie to Ben, and so what if dad was right about Klaus, was he just supposed to lie about that, too? 

Still, Ben’s words echoed in his head. He didn’t _want_ to be the bad guy. They needed to stay focused on their mission, on saving the world. Why couldn’t anyone else see that? But Ben looked so hurt. And he came to Luther, his brother, in a time of need. Should he have played along? No, this was unhealthy, and if his siblings wanted to enable each other that was fine, but he wouldn’t. 

~~~

A message was slipped under each Hargreeves siblings’ door: they were to meet in Klaus’ old bedroom at midnight. They avoided too much eye contact at dinner, and at 11:59, all five remaining siblings padded down the hall and into the bedroom. The room was dark except for the candles tucked wherever there was free space amongst Klaus’ stuff. Ben looked up at his siblings as they entered. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, wearing his charcoal-grey hoodie over his pajamas. He raised an eyebrow at Luther. Allison, Diego, and Vanya joined Ben on the floor. Luther remained standing. 

“I didn’t come to help you,” Luther avoided his brother’s gaze. “This won’t bring him back, Ben. He’s gone, and we all just have to deal with that.”

“I guess I should’ve known better than to think you changed your mind,” Ben’s voice was hard. 

“Even if he was a ghost, do you honestly think he would want to talk to _us_? He probably hates us.”

“What is wrong with you?” Diego struggled to keep his voice low. “Did you just want to stop by to rub in how much more of a frigid son of a bitch you are?”

Allison stood up.

“I can’t do this either.” She looked to Ben with sympathy.

“There’s a shocker,” Diego mumbled. 

“Ben, I miss him too but you need to get help, real help. Can’t you see how much this is going to hurt you? He’s gone. Klaus-” she swallowed hard. “Klaus is dead and there’s nothing we can do to make up for that.”

“You’re giving up on him.” Ben’s voice was quiet. 

“ _We’re_ giving up on _him_? Maybe you haven’t been paying attention but-” Luther began.

“Get the hell out, Luther.” Ben stared at the floor like his gaze could burn holes in the rug.

Luther stepped towards his brother, but Allison grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the bedroom. 

The two stood in the dark hallway. 

“Can you believe him? We’re just trying to help,” Luther looked to his sister for sympathy. 

“You couldn’t have just stayed out of this.”

“Hey, I was helping-”

No, _I_ was helping. You were insulting our dead brother in front of his best friend.” Allison clutched her temples. “I can’t do this tonight. I’ll see you in the morning,” she hurried down the hall before Luther could say anything else. 

Back in the bedroom, nobody had moved. 

“Ben, I’m sorry that-”

“Can we just drop it please, Vanya?” Ben snapped. His shoulders slumped. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “You just tell us what we need to do next.”

“Okay,” Ben held his palms out in front of him, his left facing up and his right facing down. “Everybody copy me, and take a couple deep breaths.” He shut his eyes, and the two remaining participants followed suit. “Now join hands.” Diego squeezed Ben’s right hand for comfort, while Ben’s left almost floated in Vanya’s grasp, as if neither were quite sure how to do it. Diego noted the callouses on Vanya’s fingertips. Ben took a shaky breath.

“We call in Klaus Hargreeves.” The room was silent for a second. Nobody dared open their eyes. “Klaus, can you hear me? It’s… it’s Ben. Klaus, I know you can hear us. Please, say something.” His hands started to shake. “Diego’s here. And Vanya. We miss you.”

“Klaus, buddy, can you hear us?” Diego croaked. 

“Hi, Klaus,” Vanya’s voice was barely above a whisper. They went silent again, listening intently. There was nothing but the low rumble of the city outside their home. 

Diego was the first to open his eyes. His heart sunk. He looked all around the bedroom, almost frantically, but there was nothing there. They were alone. Diego felt the sting of failure. This was a long shot, he knew that, but he had hoped to god it worked, for Ben’s sake if nothing else. The guy needed some good news for a change. 

Vanya was next. She looked around the room, same as Diego, making eye contact with Diego when she confirmed what she’d feared. They shared a look of pity, for each other and for their brother. Ben’s eyes were still shut tight. 

“Hey, Ben?” Diego squeezed his brother’s hand again. 

“No.” Ben’s voice was almost inaudible. His whole body was shaking now.

“Ben, open your eyes.” Diego made his voice as gentle as he could. Ben’s whole face was scrunched up, and Diego was pretty sure he was crying. 

“Please?” Vanya seemed not too far away from tears herself. When Ben opened his eyes he didn’t even look around, he just cast his eyes back to the floor, yanking his hands away from his siblings and wrapping them around himself. Vanya took her own hand back from Diego, pressing her nails into her palms. Her face burned red, and tears were freely falling now. She stood up abruptly. 

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. I shouldn’t have bothered you guys. Ben, I’m so sorry,” she fled out the door and down the hall. 

Diego was at a loss for words. 

“Ben-”

“Don’t you dare.” All the emotion was gone from Ben’s voice. 

“Please let me say I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

“I’m not offering my pity. He was my brother, too. I’m right there with you,” Diego laid a hand on Ben’s shoulder. Ben yanked Diego’s hand away. 

“The best thing you can do for me right now is to leave me the hell alone.”

Diego sighed. He wasn’t getting anywhere with his brother, and definitely wouldn’t tonight.

“Fine, if you say so.” Diego uncrossed his legs and got up off the floor. He fought the urge to turn when he reached the door, but he doubted Ben would appreciate it. He just sighed again, gently closed the door behind him, and yawned as he went back to his own room and his bed. It had been an exhausting night.

Ben forced himself to stand up. Still choking back tears, he dropped onto Klaus’ bed, curling up into a ball on top of his blankets. His cheeks burned with embarrassment. How could he have been so _stupid_? What makes him think Klaus would want to talk to him, even if he could? 

And what’s worse, he just _had_ to drag his siblings into it. Luther hates him. He’ll probably tell Reginald and Ben’s life will become a living hell. Allison fucking dared to tell him this wasn’t healthy? Ben didn’t know what part of Allison’s fucked up life made her think she was qualified to tell everyone else how to live theirs. And Diego and Vanya, they would treat Ben like a kicked puppy forever. They act like they care, all of them, but they didn’t give a shit about Klaus until he killed himself. It’s not Ben’s fault they feel guilty because they treated Klaus like shit while he was alive. No, Ben would never live this down. He broke and showed his siblings how he was feeling, _really_ feeling, and it was all for nothing. Ben would never know peace or privacy again. 

He lay there, letting the candles burn down to the wicks, choking under the weight of Klaus’ life around him. The scribbles on the walls, the clothes strewn on the floor, objects Klaus had stolen from their father’s study, everything. His whole life was here in this room, like it was still waiting for Klaus to come back and fill the space. But Klaus was dead and he was never coming back. Ben eventually drifted off into the dreamless sleep of exhaustion. 


	3. Unfinished Buisness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus comes to in the afterlife. To his horror, he is told he must go back.

The first thing Klaus felt after he died was gravel poking into his palms. He was slumped forward on his hands and knees, in the middle of a dirt road that stretched infinitely in front and behind him. The road was lined with trees that swayed in a soft breeze. The ground was splashed with late afternoon light that filtered through the canopy. It was peaceful.

The second thing Klaus felt after he died was how sober he was. It was almost nauseating, the whiplash of being alive and high one second, and stone cold dead and sober the next. Klaus fought the urge to vomit. _Wait,_ could _he even vomit?_ The wounds on his wrists were still gently oozing blood, despite his lack of heartbeat, and his head felt like it was full of cotton, so maybe throwing up was possible too? What luck. _Had being sober always sucked this much?_ He wondered, his head throbbing.

But what was worse than sobriety was the silence. When Klaus was alive, getting drunk or high quieted the ghosts, for sure, but they never really went away. They just faded into the background for a while. Ghosts had still hovered in the corners of his vision, an occasional whisper still could fight its way through. Now there was nothing. It felt like a part of Klaus was missing, like his sense of hearing was gone, which wasn’t too far from the truth. The only voice in his head was his own. For the first time in his life, Klaus was completely alone. 

As he thought all this, there was a scraping sound and a bicycle skidded to a halt in front of him. Klaus lifted his head up and looked at its rider: a young girl with a floppy sun hat, who seemed more condescending than was physically possible for someone her age. She reminded him of Five. 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she frowned. Klaus winced. He didn’t know it was possible to be dead in the wrong way. _Even in the afterlife he was screwing up_. 

“Sorry to disappoint,” Klaus spoke for the first time since he’d died.

“What are you doing here?”

Klaus curled his legs criss-cross underneath him and swung his wrists up to face her, the girl’s lip curling as a couple drops of blood landed on her front tire. 

“Well. You can’t stay here. You have to go back.” 

This took a second to process. Klaus’s heart sunk. 

“Hey, not fair, that’s not how this works,” Klaus grew angry. “What the hell do you think I killed myself for, fun?” He wrapped his arms around himself. Klaus curled up like he had a hundred times before when he was locked in a mausoleum, left to the devices of angry ghosts. He felt like he was suffocating. “You don’t understand. I can’t go back there. I can’t.”

_He thought of Allison. She’d never understand why he had done it, everything always came so easy to her. Who knows what Diego would say, probably just something about how he was surprised the drugs didn’t kill him first. Vanya would look at him like a kicked puppy forever. Ben would hate Klaus for running away when Ben needed him most. Klaus would lose the closest thing to a friend he ever had, and he couldn’t do shit about it because it was all his fault. Luther, he’d hate Klaus forever, for being too much of a coward to stay alive or whatever horseshit Reggie brainwashed him into thinking. Oh god. Reggie. Klaus would be locked in a mausoleum for the rest of his life._

Fear choked Klaus’s voice.

“You can’t make me!”

“Calm down,” The girl seemed unmoved by the boy having a panic attack on the ground in front of her. “You won’t come back to life, you don’t get that. You’re just not done yet.”

“Like unfinished business? Like a ghost?” Klaus thought back to all the hollow, bitter ghosts who filled his every waking moment when he was alive. _Is this what happened to them too? Would he become a shell, desperate to finish the life he couldn’t?_

“They’re not like you,” she seemed to read his mind. “You’re not looking for some second chance at life. You’re only going back because I can’t seem to stop you. There’s something… different going on here, I can’t explain it. Your powers were stronger than you thought. You’re a special case, Klaus.” She seemed reluctant to give the complement. With a start, Klaus realized the girl used his name. 

“You know me?”

“I know everything.”

“Does that mean-?”

She huffed, “I don’t care what you think it means. Now, let’s get this over with, I do have other things to do today.” She raised her fingers to snap.

“Wait- one more thing?”

“Aren’t you already asking enough?”

Klaus fought the urge to argue. _He didn’t ask for any of this._ He sighed, he doubted she would care, and he was too tired to put up a fight. Klaus held his forearms out again.

“It’s just... if I can- if my family can see me, I don’t want to freak them out. Can you... patch me up?”

The girl arched an eyebrow.

“They found your body. They’re already freaked out.”

Klaus felt a twinge of shame. He lowered his gaze to the dirt road. “Then I don’t want to mess them up more than I already have.” 

The girl’s face softened. 

“Okay, Klaus.”

She snapped her fingers once, and there was clean white gauze wrapped around his forearms. Before Klaus could open his mouth to thank her, she snapped her fingers again and the ground was yanked out from under him, and he plummeted into blackness. 


	4. Monstrous Tendencies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a few days since the events of the last chapter, and the Umbrella Academy is going on missions again. After a particularly exhausting one, Ben shuts the world out and reflects on the nature of his powers. 
> 
> Klaus returns to the world of the living, and wanders the halls of a place he hoped to never see again. He gets familiar with the limitations of his ghostly form, and makes a shocking discovery about his brother, Ben.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neither one of the two segments quite worked on their own, so here's a mega-chapter.  
> I wish I could credit whoever originally came up with the idea that The Horror Aliened it's way through Ben's chest when he summoned it, but I cannot for the life of me tell you where I saw it mentioned.
> 
> Also, I've updated the tags to include the content warnings for this chapter, please please let me know if anything else should be/needs tagged!

The next two days passed too quickly. Before they knew it, the Umbrella Academy was going on missions again. Todays’ had been particularly rough. Reginald had known it would be difficult, he’s the one who chose it, after all. But he still blamed their “break” for making them rusty and, _he eyed Ben_ , emotionally volatile.

The tired children piled into the limousine, Reginald sitting in front, probably to avoid talking to his children, or at least to avoid getting blood on his suit. Luther inspected his bloody busted knuckles, Allison winced as she applied pressure to a spot on her arm where a bullet had grazed her skin, Diego nursed a black eye. The three sat as far as possible from Ben, who was covered head to toe in blood and dripping on the upholstery. The ride home was dead silent, with everyone too exhausted to do much more that stare out the windows. 

For once, they missed Klaus’ occasionally funny one-liners that he had always filled these quiet car trips with. He would have said something about how they really should look into a sponsorship from Advil, what with how many they always needed after these goddamn missions. Or he’d tell them all that french fries were actually invented in Denmark in the seventies. It was clear that he hated the silence as much as they did, if not more.

It wasn’t much, but it had always helped lighten the mood after missions. If nothing else, Klaus gave the siblings a common enemy when he made a particularly stupid pun or something. His siblings had never thanked him for that. They hadn’t realized they even were thankful for their brother’s jokes until they found out they would never hear them again. 

  
  


When they arrived back home, Grace was there in the foyer, with bandages, painkillers, and ice packs. Each sibling mumbled a “thanks” to their mother, and then headed up to their rooms. Ben was last, as he peeled off his bloodstained shoes and socks to avoid leaving a trail on the floor. Vanya came down the stairs, as she often did when her siblings returned from missions, as much out of curiosity as concern. She stopped in her tracks when she saw her brother covered in blood. Vanya met his eyes and gave him a sympathetic smile. Ben said nothing, tucking his shoes under his arm and leaving for his usual trip down to the laundry room. 

As he walked, Ben’s free hand went to his stomach, which was visible through his shredded uniform. His skin was still covered with gashes leftover from where The Horror had burst through his torso. (Klaus used to call Ben Sigourney Weaver when he was feeling particularly bold, which usually resulted in Ben throwing something at his head). The wounds were almost closed already, something to do with superhuman healing being part of his powers, but they still stung. Just because they healed fast didn’t mean they weren’t still deep. 

Ben entered the laundry room. He peeled off the rest of his clothes and tossed them in the laundry bin Grace reserved for bloodstained uniforms. Ben hopped in the utility shower and let the hot water clear the rest of the blood away, wincing when it made contact with his stomach. He dried off, opened his locker (Grace had lovingly labeled it with “Ben’s Extras” in cursive) and grabbed a clean uniform. As he finished getting dressed, there was a knock at the door. 

“May I come in?” Grace asked.

“Yeah, mom.”

She entered with an armful of clothes, the others' uniforms. Smiling at Ben, she dumped them in the washing machine and plucked his out of the bin. She turned the shirt around in her hands, examining the tear marks. 

“Now, Ben, you know you need to be more careful when you use your powers. I’m a darn good seamstress if I say so myself, but this is beyond me.” She tossed the shirt into the garbage. 

“I know, mom, I’m sorry.”

Grace stroked his cheek. Ben was too exhausted to stop her.

“It’s okay. How are you feeling?”

“Why does everyone keep asking that? I’m fine.”

Grace pursed her lips. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I just think-”

“Great, thanks,” Ben left before his mother could finish.

  
  


Ben flopped down on his bed. He idly picked at the scabs that were starting to develop on his stomach wounds. Ben was lucky superhuman healing was a part of his powers. The portal he summoned The Horror from was lodged in his stomach, so every time Ben had to summon The Horror, it had to tear its way through Ben’s skin. Convenient that he healed so quickly, so Reginald didn’t have to suffer the inconvenience of piecing his son back together between missions. Ben’s regeneration wasn’t discovered for years, of course. It was only when he was around ten, and he summoned The Horror for the first time, that they found out. 

~~~

Everyone had looked at this child with his shredded stomach and assumed he was dying. Ben remembered laying in the infirmary with his siblings, all of them squeamish and terrified but there nonetheless, as their brother bled out. Reginald stood in the doorway, and didn’t bother to lower his voice when he asked Pogo the odds of them tracking down another one once Ben was gone. 

Reginald regained interest in his son when Grace lifted Ben’s shirt to stitch the wounds and found them already shut. Fortunately for Ben, his powers hadn’t killed him. Unfortunately, that meant his training could begin. 

It took a while for Ben to get used to the sensation of summoning The Horror. Before his pain tolerance had built up, he would vomit and black out from the pain. Once he learned to remain conscious the whole time, he had to face the scary truth of his powers: Ben had no control over the monster in his stomach. All he could do was aim it in the direction of the people he had to kill. Sometimes The Horror killed its targets quickly, sometimes… not. Ben had to stand and watch as its ( _his_ ) victims were flung into the walls, or skewered through, or torn to pieces. 

Another thing Ben discovered as he summoned The Horror more often was how its emotions leaked into Ben’s head and mixed with his own. Whenever the tentacles shot out of Ben’s stomach he felt it: a surge of blind fury like an endless fountain. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. The Horror dug through Ben’s psyche, and turned all of his inner turmoil outwards. He had suffered enough, he deserved to make others suffer too. These criminals who preyed on innocent people needed to be ended, no one else should suffer at their hands. Killing them felt righteous.

The feeling was practically a drug to the boy with no other outlets. Ben realized pretty quickly that he could never tell a soul about this part of his powers. Nobody would understand. The world already saw him as a monster, including his family. If they knew what went on in his head, just how monstrous he became, they would never talk to him again.

He tried his best to hide away on missions, do his part of the killing in private, if not for his own sake than for his siblings’. He knew they sometimes snuck a peek at him, though. Nobody ever owned up to it, but Ben could always tell when they had by the way his siblings would look especially queasy on the ride home. At least they pretended like he didn’t scare them, that was considerate of them. 

After the missions, when he was covered in blood, Ben would feel more monstrous than ever. He hated having to kill people. When his mind went to especially dark places he could hear the screams of every single person he killed, over and over. He feared they would never go away. He hated how easy it was for The Horror to manipulate him. He never resisted when it called to him, even though he knew he should try to. It was like every part of him besides his anger (towards his father, his powers, himself) ceased to exist. It was a terrible outlet for his emotions, he knew that, but it was the only outlet he had.

Ben had so much anger in him that his siblings didn’t know about. He wore himself out pretending to be who they thought he was, who he wanted them to think he was: shy, sarcastic, geeky Ben. Ben who never had problems of his own, but would always drop what he was doing to solve yours, because he was a good person. Ben who kept his head down and did what their father asked of him, even though he hated the killing. 

There were times when Ben had wanted to tell Klaus the truth. He was so sick of having to fight against The Horror alone, and he knew his brother would understand. Klaus hated his powers too. Maybe Klaus could stay in the room with him on missions. Ben always felt so awful after The Horror finally left him, maybe Klaus could support his brother as he shakily got to his feet. Maybe Klaus could ignore the mangled bodies of Ben’s victims, the blood gushing out of Ben’s stomach, and just talk to him. About his new favorite band, or how he missed Five, or just how his day was. But Ben didn’t deserve support. He didn’t deserve a friend like Klaus. Besides, Klaus already went through so much with his own powers, Ben would never forgive himself if he made his brother’s life harder by dumping all his baggage onto him. Klaus had already stuck his neck out for Ben once before, and Reginald had made Klaus pay for it for the rest of his life.

  
  


It was shortly after they all began their training. At the start, they had all trained together. But as months passed, the others had to watch their brother scream in pain and collapse to the floor, over and over as he let the Horror tear him open. He had no choice, that’s how his powers worked, and he didn’t dare go against their father. Ben used to train with his siblings, before they all privately asked Reginald to train him separately. Ben disturbed them too much. 

It was then that Reginald began Ben’s _real_ training. They moved to a warehouse-like room Ben had never seen before. His father got full pig carcasses from a farm upstate, who he paid a lot of money to not ask any questions. The carcasses were hoisted up on chains hanging from the ceiling. Ben was to hone his disemboweling to an art. 

Klaus never said, but he would sneak into the room and hide, keeping an eye on how Reggie treated Ben in his training sessions. He knew firsthand how ruthless their father could be, and had a sneaking suspicion that Ben was getting the same cruel treatment vis-a-vis his powers that Klaus was. He had been right to think that, of course, he just wished to god he hadn’t. Klaus knew he’d have hell to pay if he showed himself, so he just hid, curled up in silence, as his brother screamed and cried and let his powers tear him to shreds for their father. Again and again and again. 

After Ben was done with training, Klaus would always be the first to greet him at the door, with an arm to lean on and towels for the blood. He never probed Ben about what went on in his training, Ben made it clear he didn’t want him to. 

The three kept on like this, until one day, when instead of a carcass, Ben entered the room to find a live pig, chained to the floor and squealing in terror. Ben was horrified. He stood, trembling, as his father shouted abuse at him. 

_He would not allow Number Six to be dead weight on missions, he must learn how to kill living creatures or he will never be able to stop criminals, innocent people will die because Number Six simply cannot sacrifice his comfort for the sake of saving lives. Had he not made it clear enough that it was the Umbrella Academy’s duty to save the world, or did Number Six just think he was more important than everyone else on the planet?_

Ben was crying now, he had sunk down to the floor and clamped his hands over his ears, trying to tune out his father’s fury and the pig’s screams. Klaus couldn’t take it anymore. He left his hiding place and ran to his brother’s side, throwing his arms around the crying child. Eyes burning with fury, Klaus looked up to meet his father’s gaze. The boy’s voice was quiet but venomous:

“Don’t you think you’ve fucked your son up enough for one day? Get out, you fucking monster.”

Reginald said nothing, he didn’t need to. He was about to make Klaus’ life a living hell, the both of them knew it. Their father turned and left the room. Klaus numbly opened the warehouse door, grabbed a bit of pipe he found, and whacked at the pigs chains until they broke. The pig ran, still squealing, out into the city. It would have to be someone else’s problem. Klaus rejoined his brother on the floor, letting Ben embrace him and sob into his shoulder for a very long time. Something changed in Klaus that day. He would never let anything bad happen to his brother again. 

But now Klaus was dead, and there was nobody left who loved Ben like he had. Diego was trying to stand up for Ben, but whether it was out of love for his brother or just hatred of their father, Ben wasn’t sure. Maybe it didn’t matter. Besides, if Diego knew, _really knew_ , Ben, he wouldn’t want to defend him, for any reason.

~~~

When Klaus opened his eyes, the world was blinding white. For a second, he thought he must have dreamed his conversation with the bicycle girl, or maybe she lied to him and he was in the afterlife after all. But no, the world was coming into focus. Klaus was splayed out on the ground, looking up at a winter night's sky, the kind that never really got dark thanks to the city lights reflecting off the clouds. Snow swirled around him, but the wind didn’t chill him like it was supposed to. Klaus put up a hand to block his face from the snow, but it fell straight through like he wasn’t even there.

“How about that,” Klaus stared in awe at his hand.

It was comforting in a way to know the girl in the woods who might also be God wasn’t just some weird hallucination, Klaus had certainly dreamt up weirder. Klaus pulled himself up and looked around. He was back at the Academy, in the courtyard with the old gazebo. Where he was standing, the soil had been freshly churned. A stone slab that Klaus guessed was his headstone jutted out at the far end of the patch. It read: 

“Klaus Hargreeves, 1989-2006, _May the darkness within you find peace in the light_.”

The inscription must have been Grace and Pogo’s idea, it was much too generous for his father to have been involved. Klaus looked around the courtyard.

“You buried me in the backyard, really? What am I, your pet hamster?” 

Klaus hadn’t given much thought to how things would shake out with his body after he died. In a perfect world, he wouldn’t have been around to care, but here we were. The thought of his body staying inside the Academy forever freaked him out in a way he couldn’t explain. 

Klaus tore his gaze away from his grave and approached the heavy wooden doors that led back into the mansion. Could he phase through them? Push them open with ghost magic? Klaus had never been dead before, he wasn’t sure how this stuff worked. The least they could have done was given him a pamphlet or something. 

He reached out his hand, and jumped when it made contact with the door. He wasn’t touching it exactly, he couldn’t feel the cold or the grain of the wood, he just felt a barrier. Klaus shut his eyes and concentrated, the same as when he tried to summon ghosts. He hadn’t tried using his powers in ages, but they should work the same way as before, right? Just that now he’s summoning himself? That made Klaus’ head hurt, but he kept focus. 

He reached out again, with both hands, but this time he found only air. Klaus opened his eyes and laughed, he had stuck his arms through the door, up to his elbows. He strode forward and entered the mansion. 

  
  


It was a bit of a walk back to the main part of the house. Klaus took it all in as he walked, he had hoped to never see this place again. It was just his luck he was stuck haunting the ancestral home, the site of every shitty moment of his life. He liked that one diner with the crazy good jelly donuts, why couldn’t he haunt there instead? Or a park, he liked parks. Or a Seven-Eleven. Literally anywhere else.

Klaus was still listing off better spots (The desert. A dumpster.) when he spotted Allison. She was sitting at the table in the kitchen and sniffling. Pogo sat down across the table, placing a teacup in front of her. 

“I just wish I could do more to help him. I totally screwed up the other night and he won’t let me apologize. And he just keeps talking about bringing Klaus back, like he’s not even _dead_. I don’t know what to do.” She took tiny sips of tea. 

This caught Klaus’ attention. He tiptoed down the hall and stood to the side of the doorway, ready to bolt if he needed to.

“Your brother has a lot on his mind right now. Reginald has perhaps… done more harm than good in trying to get you children to move on sooner than you were ready to. Ben’s ways of grieving may be a little strange, but he will come around. I would advise you against trying to talk to him about these things before he’s ready. When he wants to talk, he will come to you. That’s what he did before, right?”

Allison hadn’t told Pogo about the séance. As far as she knew, none of them had told anyone. She only mentioned the first half to Pogo, where Ben came to her for some advice and she shut him down. 

“He did.” She wiped tears from her eyes. “I guess you’re right, thanks Pogo.”

Klaus leaned back against the wall. _What the hell had happened when he was gone? What has it been, a week? Less?_ He had honestly expected everyone to be over his death by now, the others made it clear how much he annoyed them, when he was alive. But Ben wasn’t over it yet, so much so that he was starting to freak out his siblings. Klaus knew how Ben could spiral with stuff like this, he could have known it would happen again when Klaus killed himself. Now Klaus got to feel selfish for that, too. It’s not fair, he’d just wanted to be done with all of this shit. Why did his suicide have to be everyone else’s buisness?

Klaus cursed the girl upstairs. If he had been allowed to just die like everyone else, he wouldn’t be stuck here playing Dr. Phil for his family. But it turns out that not even death could free him from the Umbrella Academy. Because he was _extraordinary_ , he got to see how he was still screwing everything up, even after death.

Klaus jumped as the scraping of chairs brought him back to reality. Allison stopped in the doorway. All Klaus could do was shrink into the corner, there was no time to hide. She wiped the tears from her eyes, looked around, and… moved on. She couldn’t see him. 

Klaus didn’t know how to feel. He sure as hell wasn’t in the mood to explain himself to his siblings. How he died, how he was back, any of it. He wasn’t even sure if they’d want to see him. But still. He’d been around ghosts long enough to know how lonely it was to have nobody in the world see you. The thought of spending eternity in this house, watching his family repeat their same petty arguments for the rest of their lives, made Klaus’ heart race and his chest tighten. _Oh cool, he could still have panic attacks as a ghost. Fucking nifty._

Klaus forced himself to keep walking. This should have been fun. He was invisible, he could spy on whoever he wanted. That was cool, at least. He finally had superpowers he liked. Klaus climbed a staircase and ended up in the main foyer. Out of habit, he froze when he heard footsteps. It was Diego, coming down the main staircase. He wiped away a couple tears of his own, then looked around the room self-consciously. He sighed, relieved there was no one there to have to defend himself to. Diego turned and walked into the living room. Klaus followed. 

Five’s portrait still hung over the fireplace. Klaus had hoped me might get an embarrassingly sappy portrait of his own, now that he was dead. Five had just run away, Klaus’ exit from the Academy was much more theatrical, and much more deserving of a cheesy memorial. But Five was one of Reggie’s favorites. Disappearing that day, he had left a hole the remaining siblings could never fill, despite how hard they tried. 

Klaus, on the other hand, was the family disappointment. Reggie made sure he never forgot that. Klaus, whose powers were all but worthless. Klaus, who dragged the Academy’s reputation through the mud when his addiction couldn’t be shoved under the rug, when he started overdosing and ending up in hospitals (and, more importantly, the tabloids). Klaus, who only ever got in the way of the real heroes. Who was almost as bad as someone Ordinary. Except he was worse, for living under Reggie’s roof and breathing his air, despite contributing nothing of value to his precious Umbrella Academy. 

Yeah, maybe the portrait was wishful thinking.

Klaus plopped down on the couch, next to Diego. His brother had a book open, but he wasn’t reading. Klaus followed his gaze. He was glaring at the door to his father’s office. Klaus’ face lit up. He practically ran to the door. _Finally, something fun he could do._

Like before, Klaus took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and took a step forward. He had seen the inside of Reggie’s office only a few times before. When they were little kids, Grace had often taken them down to try and get their father to wish them goodnight. Reggie had shut that sentiment down pretty quickly, and they were banned from disturbing him when he was in his office. The room was off-limits all the time, not just when he was in it. 

Klaus only successfully broke into his father’s office twice. The first time, for the pricey booze he kept behind his desk ( _He had driven his teenage son to alcoholism, letting Klaus have the good stuff was the least dear old dad could do, right?_ ). The second time, to steal Reggie’s set of fountain pens that Ben had always admired. Klaus had spent days in the mausoleum for that one, but he didn’t care. He made his brother smile, he had done something right for a change. 

When Klaus opened his eyes, the room looked exactly like it always had: all gloomy dark wood and books, strange brass devices and a weirdly large number of taxidermied birds. Klaus scanned the surface of the desk in the center of the room. He couldn’t move objects, so any snooping he did would have to be surface-level. Klaus brought his face inches away from the papers strewn across the desk. He squinted, struggling to read Reggie’s stupid fancy handwriting.

The door opened, and Klaus jumped. Despite being invisible, he hurried out from behind the desk as Reginald strode across the room and sat down. Klaus stood in front of the door, his back almost shoved against it. All he could do was stare at his father, as he opened his journal and flipped through the pages. Klaus had wanted to scream at him, for ruining his life, for doing the same to Ben after he wasn’t around to stop him, for everything. But he couldn’t. He felt like a little kid again. Maybe it was because he was eavesdropping, maybe because the room was so forbidden, he wasn’t sure why, but he felt more terrified of his father than he had in years. Again, he fought to keep his breathing slow and steady, despite not technically having breath. 

“You can stop lurking in the doorway now.”

Klaus went completely still, his eyes wide and frantic. A jolt of fear like electricity shot down his spine. 

“Sorry, Father,” It was Luther who spoke. He walked straight through Klaus and stood at attention in front of Reginald’s desk. Klaus’ heart was still pounding in his chest. Luther must have opened the door, just as quietly as humanly possible. Klaus must not have noticed. He cursed his brother for finally learning how to not practically rip doors off their hinges when he opened them. 

“What do you want?” Reginald demanded, curt as always. 

“Um. I just wanted to discuss Number Six with you. I was thinking… um…”

“You may not have better things to do, Number One, but I do, so could you please finish your sentences with some urgency.”

Luther winched, the same expression Klaus saw in Ben. Klaus had always figured Reggie treated Luther better than the rest of them, he was Number One, after all. He put so much effort into being the perfect leader, even when it made his siblings hate him for it. Klaus had thought their father would see that, and be grateful for Luther’s efforts. Apparently not. 

“Sorry, sir. It’s just that…” Klaus could see that Luther was making mental calculations, rephrasing his thoughts in a way their father might like better. “It’s just that Number Six has been showing signs of distress lately, and it is beginning to affect his effectiveness on missions, as well as his general wellbeing. I believe he is still recovering from the, um. From what happened last week.” 

Luther glanced up at Reggie, as if making sure he hadn’t crossed a line. Klaus’ heart sank as he connected the dots. They were forbidden from mentioning him. Luther continued:

“I know that too long of an absence from the public eye would be suspicious, but perhaps if Ben-” he shook his head, “-Number Six were to take over the role of lookout, just until he’s feeling better, it would do him some good.”

“Number Six must learn to fortify his mind. It is no one’s fault but his own if he has failed to learn how to do that before now. I refuse to play into his weaknesses.”

“He’s not a failure, he’s in mourning,” Luther murmured before he could stop himself, then immediately clamped a hand over his mouth. 

Reginald’s eyes flared. 

“It is your responsibility to act as leader to your siblings. If you keep failing in those duties, like you have failed with Number Four and Number Six, then you do not deserve your place in the Academy, and the planet is doomed.”

Luther stiffened up.

“I understand, sir, sorry again for bothering you.” There was a slight quiver to his voice. Luther turned and left the office. Klaus approached his father.

“You shouldn’t kick your lapdogs like that, you know.”

Klaus followed his brother, sticking both middle fingers up and behind him before phasing through the door. 

Klaus hurried upstairs. He felt bad about not looking for Ben right away, but now he knew he had to. He freely walked past Allison and Vanya, having a hushed conversation in the hallway, confident that they couldn’t see him. Klaus rubbed his eyes as he walked. He was exhausted, he had a week’s worth of family drama to catch up on, and he couldn’t even smoke to calm his frayed nerves. 

Klaus didn’t even stop when he came to Ben’s bedroom, he walked straight through the door. His brother was curled up in bed. Klaus sat down on the corner of the bed like he had so many times before.

“Damn, Benny, I didn’t think this shithole of a house could get any more depressing, but you guys are doing wonders for that. You know what would help? If you got me a portrait for the living room. Or, better yet,” Klaus spread his hands, “get one of me _and_ little Five. And there’s a speech bubble that just says “this is all your fault” in beautiful script. And it’s in black and white and we’re both crying.” Klaus was too distracted to see his brother bolt up in bed. “Maybe it’s a velvet painting, those are nice.” Klaus mused, leaning back and laying his head on the bed. 

His smile disappeared when he glanced over and saw Ben looking back, wide-eyed and gripping his blanket with white knuckles. Tears streamed down his face. His voice was impossibly quiet. 

“Klaus…?”

Klaus scrambled, flipping onto his stomach and pulling himself up to face his brother. 

“You can _see_ me? How can you see me? Nobody else can- what the hell is _happening_?” Klaus smiled despite being dead, despite everything. Someone could see him, and that someone was Ben. He laughed shakily, and found that he couldn't stop. He was pretty sure he was crying, too. Ben was still in shock. He reached up to touch his brother’s face, but his fingertips phased through it and felt icy cold. 

“You’re- you’re still dead.” He croaked.

Klaus brought his own hand to his face. 

“Yeah… I can’t explain it, please don’t make me try. I met god, i think, if that little prick on the bicycle was god. And she told me I wasn’t supposed to be dead yet but also wasn’t important enough to come back to life, which is fair, I’m not. But I’m back!” Klaus laughed again, almost manically. 

Ben raised an eyebrow. 

“That made absolutely no sense, you know that, right? Are you high right now? Can ghosts even _be_ high?”

“Super fun fact: they cannot. This is just Klaus prime, Benny.”

Ben chuckled, running his hands through his hair.

“I can’t believe this. Everyone thought you were gone, _everyone_. Nobody believed me. They thought I was crazy. Just wait ‘till I tell them, they’ll be so glad to see you again, Klaus. In fact, let’s go now and-”

“No!” Klaus blurted out. His voice was more panicked than he’d wanted it to be. His sudden outburst made Ben flinch. 

“Why not? This last week has sucked. Everyone’s a mess. We all miss you like crazy. We buried you. We-” Ben’s voice broke, “we _saw_ you, Klaus. When you…” Ben’s eyes darted to his brother’s forearms. 

“Come on, you wouldn’t really tell the other’s, would you?” Klaus tried to casually cross his arms, but he knew Ben could see through that, that he was just hiding his scars.

“You don’t have to tell everyone if you don’t want to, but at least talk to me. What _happened_ , Klaus?”

“There is not a word in the English language to describe how little I want to talk about it.”

“Klaus-”

I would rather French kiss Pogo than talk about it.”

“Klaus, you killed yourself,” Ben’s voice was full of pain. “You left us. You left me.”

Without warning, Klaus got up off the bed and stormed over to the window, leaning against the windowsill. 

“I said drop it,” He snapped, with more malice than he had ever used towards Ben. The room was silent for a minute, as he stared out the window at the city lights. Klaus turned back towards his brother. He had started to cry again. Klaus sighed, and sat back down on the bed, this time next to Ben. He pulled his knees up under his chin and wrapped his arms around them. “I’m sorry, okay? Jesus. I just don’t want to talk about it.” _Klaus really could use a cigarette_. 

Ben wiped his tears away and nodded.

“I’m sorry, I won’t bring it up. I’m just- I missed you _so much_ ,” he gave a shaky laugh.

Klaus didn’t know what to say to that. He and Ben were close, sure, but they had still fought, a lot at times. Ben was constantly trying to get Klaus to quit drinking and smoking. Klaus roped Ben into his pranks, and when they were caught and punished with extra-long training sessions Ben wouldn’t talk to Klaus for days. Klaus had assumed Ben had only put up with him as much as he did because they both creeped the others out, and were kind of stuck with each other. He never thought his brother actually _cared_ about him.

The two were silent again. 

“Could you… stay here? At least until I fall asleep?” Ben asked, yawning. He could barely keep his eyes open. The day had worn him out. 

“Sure, Ben,” Klaus’ voice softened. He relaxed his shoulders and let his arms drop to his sides. Ben curled up in bed, lying on his side with his blankets wrapped around him up to his chin. He wordlessly reached out and grabbed his brother’s hand, or at least where it would have been, if Klaus were alive. Instead, his hand lay against the bed inside a freezing cold pocket of air the shape of Klaus’ hand. He tried to pull away, but Ben mumbled,

“No, leave it, please. It tells me you’re still here.”

It didn’t take long for Ben to fall asleep. When he slept, his face scrunched up like a child having a nightmare, which he probably was. Klaus was left awake to think about everything he’d seen that day. He gazed out the window, at the city outside of their little drama, once again craving a cigarette he couldn’t even appreciate. 


	5. Band-Aid Solutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben struggles to keep Klaus' secret on top of his own. Klaus tries to play therapist when the others fail to notice their brother's downward spiral. Reginald delivers an ultimatum to Number Six.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elephant in the room, I'm probably gonna be putting these chapters out at a bit of a slower pace, sorry. This semester is just being brutal, for a lot of different reasons. BUT. I do have the rest of this story planned out, I have a game plan for everything that's next, I just need to... write it. You know how it is. 
> 
> Having said that, reception to this has been incredible so far, I can't tell you what the kudos and comments mean to me, thank you all so much! Okay, enough rambling.

Ben woke up late the next morning, to the bell Grace rang to summon them to breakfast. Ben scrambled out of bed, yanking off his pajama shirt and grabbing a clean uniform from his closet. For a second, he wondered if he dreamed the events last night, if his brain had hallucinated his brother in some kind of lonely episode. Hopping on one foot as he pulled up his shorts, he paused to look back at his bed.

Sure enough, Klaus was still there. He was asleep, or whatever the ghost equivalent was, still bunched up like he had been last night. Clearly comfort wasn’t an issue for ghosts. Ben wondered if he should try to wake his brother. Would he want to come downstairs, and spy on how the family was doing without him? Klaus had never seemed to care about anyone else’s opinions, had dying changed that? But, even if Klaus did care, would he even let on that he did? He’d been so angry last night when Ben tried to ask him anything personal, he’d probably just snap at him again. 

_Yeah,_ Ben decided, _better let him sleep._ He finished getting dressed and hurried downstairs, meeting up with his siblings in the dining room. They were all in their usual positions, standing behind their chairs, waiting for their father to give them permission to sit. Reginald had not yet arrived, so the siblings chatted quietly. Ben looked around the table, making eye contact with Diego, who was clearly trying to get his attention. His brother gave a small smile. 

“Hey, Ben. You good?”

“I’m fine. I just slept in.” Ben yawned, proving his point.

“Yeah? Okay cool, just… wanted to check. I know it’s stupid to say but you seem to be doing a bit better. That’s good.”

“Oh… thanks, I guess.”

The chatter stopped as they heard Reginald approaching. Newspaper in hand (he avoided talking to his children when he didn’t have to), he took his place at the head of the table and nodded his permission to the others. Everyone sat and began breakfast.

Ben pushed scrambled eggs around his plate with a fork. He wondered why Diego, of all people, was taking an interest in his mental wellbeing. The guy cared about him, sure, but he was never the most emotionally mature of their siblings. He certainly didn’t go out of his way to check up on anyone. What had changed, why was he so sure Ben was doing better?

With a start, Ben made the connection. Ben seemed to be doing better because he knew something nobody else did, he knew Klaus was still around and taking a ghostly nap upstairs. Klaus was back from the dead, but Ben had promised not to tell any of his siblings. Ben was no longer in mourning, but the others still were. No wonder he seemed to be doing better. _What a fucked up situation he was in._ It was no secret that Klaus’ death had devastated Ben, if his siblings went out of their way to check in on him. Now he had to pretend to still be broken up about Klaus’ death, otherwise he might break his promise.The irony of having yet another secret to hide from his siblings was not lost on him.

Ben _was_ still messed up about Klaus’ death, but for new reasons. Sleep hadn’t helped his mind recover from the whiplash of mourning his brother one second, and seeing him march into Ben’s room, rambling about velvet paintings the next. Klaus was still dead, sure, but he was _here._ He wasn’t some hazy, dead-eyed ghost like you saw in horror movies. He was exactly who he’d been before he died, just as much of an asshole. Ben couldn’t decide if that was comforting or not. But he was still here. It was an enormous weight off of Ben’s shoulders.

Ben had been so lonely since Klaus had died. The shock of losing the one person who might be able to stomach the truth of Ben’s powers was just too much. He supposed he should have found some way to cope, but since he had his dead brother’s ghost to talk to now, he didn’t have to worry about any of that. Now, he had to find out more about what made Klaus kill himself. He’d been so _angry_ when Ben tried to bring it up last night. Ben wondered if it was worth risking more of his brother’s anger to get the truth. Klaus had to want to talk about it, deep down, right? That’s what Ben would want someone to do for him.

The rest of the meal went by in silence. Everyone was a bit less on-edge, clearly the time of shouting matches across the table was over. At least, until the next one of them tragically died. Grace went around the long table, clearing away plates. The children looked again to their father for permission to get up. Silence.

“Sir?” Luther asked, although he seemed sheepish today, avoiding looking Reginald in the eyes. 

“You may go,” Reginald spoke, folding his newspaper up and setting it on the table. The sound of five chairs scooting backwards followed. “Except-” Everyone froze, “For Number Six. You will meet me in my office immediately.” Reginald got up from the table and briskly left for his office.

The others cast worried glances at each other, and then at Ben. Nobody spoke, but they all feared the same thing: a repeat of their father’s brutal comments the day of the press conference. But they all knew trying to protest against Reginald’s orders was hopeless. It would only make him punish them all more, so they stayed silent. Everyone stayed in their chairs, mulling over what they had just heard. Ben sighed, clenched his fists, and stood up. Diego got up too, moving to grab Ben’s arm. 

“Stop it, I’m fine,” Ben took another step towards the door and away from Diego. Ben really hated how his brother had gotten so touchy-feely after Klaus’ death. He turned to the others. “Don’t act so broken up about this.” Before anyone could respond, he left through the door and headed down the hall towards the living room and Reginald’s office. Ben really wished Klaus could be with him for what was coming next.

~~~

It wasn’t until Klaus opened his eyes that he realized he’d been asleep. Or unconscious? Whatever you were as a ghost. Klaus rubbed his eyes, his mind still foggy. Morning light streamed through the window on the far wall of his brother’s room. Ben was gone. That woke him up. Klaus looked at Ben’s alarm clock: it was 9 a.m.. Klaus suppressed a giggle. If he was still alive, he would have slept through the whole of breakfast. Reggie would be livid. As if the fate of the world depended on whether a bunch of teenagers slept in or not. 

Klaus stretched and pulled himself out of bed. He should probably go downstairs and check in on everyone. And by ‘check in’, he obviously meant ‘use his new ghost powers to invade everyone’s privacy and have a blast doing it’. Klaus shut his eyes again, concentrated, and phased through the bedroom door. Good to know that still worked. He walked down the hall and reached the staircase that went all the way down to the first floor. 

A stupid idea went through Klaus’ mind. And, being Klaus, he immediately followed it. Klaus pulled himself up on the railing, throwing his arms out to the sides and then balancing on one foot. 

“Did someone say swan dive?” He asked the air, before jumping off. The hardwood floor at the bottom of the staircase sped towards him. Klaus flinched and shut his eyes out of instinct, but nothing happened. 

When he opened his eyes again, Klaus burst out laughing. He was still curled up and bracing for impact, but his body was hovering a few feet off of the ground. Klaus curled his legs up under him, sitting criss-cross in the air. 

“Oh, that is _so_ fucking cool. Ben’s gonna flip.” It took that for Klaus to remember what he was doing downstairs in the first place. Klaus wondered if he could float the rest of the way. He concentrated, putting his fingers to his temples like he’d seen in comics, but he remained hovering in place. Klaus swung his legs back down under him. 

“Okay, I guess we’re gonna have to learn how to be Peter Pan another time. Um, can I get gravity back, please?” He shut his eyes tight, and clenched his fists so hard he felt his nails dig into his palms. He felt himself drop down and touch the ground again, grateful he’d thought to put his feet underneath him so he didn’t fall on his ass. Of course, nobody would have seen it even if he did. 

Klaus started towards the dining room. He was halfway there when he heard quiet voices. It sounded like arguing. He followed the noise to the living room, where all of his siblings were standing around in a huddle. No, not everyone, Ben was missing. Diego was angrily gesturing at the door to their father’s office. Everyone looked… scared? Klaus moved closer. 

“-just think we should be doing more than just sitting here, eavesdropping. It’s not doing Ben any good,” Diego was saying.

“When has standing up to dad _ever_ worked out for us, Diego? What makes you think he wouldn’t just make it even worse for Ben if we tried?” Allison whispered back. For some reason, Luther winced when she said that. 

“You heard Ben at breakfast, we have to do _something_ , he thinks we hate him.” Vanya muttered. 

“We’ve been _trying_ to help him,” Now it was Luther’s turn to speak. “Since Klaus died, he’s been kind of an asshole, to all of us. Clearly, he doesn’t want our help.”

“Oh, of course _you’d_ say that,” Diego snapped.

“We are not doing this again, Diego, I swear to god,”

“Guys, shut up,” Allison interrupted.

“I don’t think I will, thanks.”

“No, seriously, shut up,” Allison had moved to the door, and was pressing her ear against it. The others fell silent. Klaus listened intently. It was only afterwards that he remembered he could have literally stuck his head through the door if he’d wanted to. Allison scrunched her face up in concentration. The siblings stayed this way for minutes.

“What are they saying?” Vanya began, when the door swung inward. A red-eyed Ben appeared in the doorway. At the last possible second, Klaus remembered Ben could see him, and dove behind the couch. Allison jumped and scrambled backwards, but it was obvious what the three of them had been doing. Ben wordlessly shut the door behind him. It was Allison who spoke first. 

“Ben, we were just-”

“Which one of you told him about the séance?” He choked out. It was clear he’d been crying.

Everyone looked around at each other in confusion. Nobody had, they knew what kind of hell their father would bring down on their brother for that kind of behavior. For trying to summon the disgraced Number Four under Reginald’s roof. Ben looked right at Luther, his eyes burning the same as they had the night of the séance. 

“What the _hell_ , Luther. That’s cruel, even for you.”

“Wait, why do you think it was me?” Luther forgot to whisper.

“I bet you ran to dad right after we kicked you out of the séance,” Diego joined in. He turned to Allison. “He did, didn’t he?”

“Why should I know!?”

“Oh come _on_ , Allison. Don’t play dumb, you’re not _that_ good of an actress.” Diego turned to Vanya. “You don’t believe this crap, do you?” Vanya looked like a deer in the headlights. She stammered.

“Okay, everyone _shut up_ ,” Luther spoke again. He looked back at Ben. “I didn’t tell dad, I swear. I just asked if he could lay off on you a bit. We’ve all seen how he’s been ganging up on you since Klaus died, I just wanted to help. We just want to make sure you’re doing okay, Ben.” Luther’s voice was full pain. He didn’t know what Reginald had said to his brother, but it was clear his own conversation with Reginald had caused it. He’d tried to be a good brother and he’d only made Ben suffer more.

“If you wanted me to be okay, you shouldn’t have ratted me out to dad,” Ben fought to keep his voice from breaking. Klaus realized what was about to happen. He army-crawled to the door, and pulled himself up, sprinting the whole way back to Ben’s bedroom.

Back in the living room, Ben had stormed away from his siblings. The room was silent, save for the crackling from the fireplace. Vanya muttered something about violin practice, and hurried away. Diego turned to Luther and opened his mouth to get one last insult out, but changed his mind and followed his sister out the door. Luther sat down hard on the couch, and put his head in his hands.

“I didn’t mean to…” his voice drifted off. 

“I know you didn’t,” Allison sighed. She didn’t move to comfort her brother. “But… it happened.” She walked away, leaving Luther alone in the massive room.

~~~

Klaus was lying on the bed when Ben entered the room, slamming the door behind him. 

“You good, Bennerino?”

Ben grabbed a pillow off the bed and shoved his face into it, his muffled screams coming through. 

“I’m picking up hints that you’re not good?”

Ben hurled the pillow at his brother. It sailed through Klaus’ ghostly form and smacked into the wall behind him. Ben angrily paced the room.

“I fucking _knew_ this would happen. It’s the same bullshit as when Five left. How come this family can’t deal with our emotions in any way other than picking fights with each other!? They’re driving me _insane_ , it’s fucking endless! 

And for once, I think someone’s gonna actually see me, but classic Diego, finding another opportunity to yell at Luther matters more than anything _I’m_ dealing with. You know they’re treating me like a mental case? I knew it would happen, but I _never_ thought they’d go to _dad_ about it. What the hell did they think would happen!? Maybe our family just hates me _that much_ , who knows? Dad’s right, I am dragging everyone else down with me. 

God, I should just-” Klaus jumped as his brother smacked his own forehead, like an idea had just come to him.

“And what’s worse, you wanna know the fucking cherry on top? He knows. Dad fucking _knows_ . It’s only a matter of time before I do something to piss him off and he tells _everyone_.” Ben ran his fingers through his hair, laughing humorlessly. His expression was wild, like a hunted animal.

“ _What?_ ” Klaus’ heart sunk. Ben looked over at his brother, and saw the look shock on his face. 

“Huh? Oh no, not that.” He laughed again. “No, there’s _one_ thing in my life Dad still doesn’t know about, I guess.”

“What, then? Jesus, Ben, you’re freaking me out.” Klaus’ voice was quiet. Ben threw himself down on the bed, his face in his hands. 

“Please don’t ask,” came his muffled response. Klaus sighed. 

“Fine, if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t make you.” The two were silent for a while. Klaus knew how Ben felt. Once Klaus became the junkie, the family disappointment, the only times the others ever talked to him was when they had no other choice. They made it clear how much he annoyed them. He’d been accused of dragging the Academy down, too. And maybe he deserved it, who knows, but Ben? Ben was a good guy, he didn’t deserve to be written off and bullied by their father, just for struggling with… whatever was going on with him. He was clearly dealing with some shit, why couldn’t anyone see that? 

“Look, Ben,” Klaus began, scooting to the edge of the bed, closer to his brother. “You gotta stop expecting so much from our family. We all _suck_ at acting like real siblings, like a real family. Which is a huge shocker, considering who raised us.” That got a chuckle out of Ben. “The point is. You’re struggling. You were boned from birth when you were born with superpowers that nobody besides yourself will ever understand. You just gotta… accept that. Nobody’s gonna know you, _really_ know you, as much as you want it. You’ve been dealt a bullshit hand and you’ve just gotta carve out whatever happiness you can in life. Right?”

“I guess so, yeah.”

“Hey, tell you what. I’ve got a whole minibar under my bed, I’m sure as hell not getting any use out of it now. Why don’t you go ahead and-”

“What? Come on, Klaus, no-”

“No, you come on. Listen. Reggie’s making your life a living hell. I know, he did the same thing to me. He made us superheroes against our will. There isn’t an _ounce_ of our lives that isn’t everyone else’s business. And our powers, they _suck_ . Nobody else knows how much we deal with them _every fucking day_. They’ll never understand us, you know they won’t. They just judge us as our powers destroy us from the inside out.” 

Klaus was almost yelling now. “And because they’ll treat us like shit no matter _what_ we do, we find that ounce of relief, wherever the hell we can.” 

Klaus slumped forward, unable to see his brother’s worried expression. “You drink, because it works. And you smoke, because it works. And you don’t let anyone else say _shit_ about it, because they never cared about you in the first place. I’m just trying to help you. Jesus, Ben, why won’t you let me help you.”

Ben sighed. He tried to place a hand on his brother’s shoulder, but it fell through. Instead, he scooted over next to him, and the two sat in silence. Ben thought back to his conversation with Reginald:

_"It has been brought to my attention that, not only are you still hung up on Number Four, but you have been attempting to summon his ghost into his house, despite no one here wanting him back. You have failed to move on from Number Four’s death, and as a result you are dragging the entire Academy down with you."_

_"It is clear you have tricked your siblings into seeing you as a weak-willed thing to be pitied. We both know this is not true. We both know you are willfully holding yourself back in training and on missions. We both know that you are, again, holding the Umbrella Academy back by refusing to submit to The Horror’s influences and discover your true potential. We both know you are much stronger, and much more bloodthirsty, than you are letting on."_

_"And, furthermore, it is clear that you wish to keep this information secret from your siblings, and the world at large. You would like to pretend The Horror is a name that doesn’t suit you. The only way this information will remain secret is if you ensure that none of the others feel the need to bother me about your “wellbeing” ever again. Do I make myself clear?"_


	6. Breaking the Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been weeks since Klaus first appeared to Ben. Ben begins to crack under the stress of keeping so many secrets. Klaus continues to be more annoying than helpful, so when a fight breaks out between the two and their siblings overhear, Ben breaks a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been looking forward to writing a *ahem* particular part of this chapter since I first came up with the idea for this AU. No spoilers.  
> Hope you all like it ;)

It’s been two weeks since Ben’s brother came back from the dead, or as close to that as he could manage. Life in the Umbrella Academy has slowly returned to normal, or at least as close to normal as they could manage. They train, go on missions, argue, the usual. No one has tried to talk to Ben about his conversation with Reginald, and he’s grateful. Ben and Klaus learn to be careful about when and where they hang out, so nobody sees Ben having conversations with himself and thinks he’s having a psychotic break. 

Klaus is more than happy to use his new powers to spy on his siblings, and often tells Ben the gossip, whether he wants to hear it or not. _Luther is secretly researching colleges and filling out applications. He even looked into NASA, what a loser. Diego has started sneaking out at night and coming back covered in blood, he’s moonlighting as a vigilante. Allison’s taken up smoking, and Vanya’s bought herself a typewriter and fancies herself the next Hemingway._

Klaus is by Ben’s side almost 24/7. He has to be, Ben’s the only person in the world who can hear him. They talk more than they ever did when Klaus was alive. Mostly complaining, about their father, their siblings, everything in their incredibly small world. It’s clear to Klaus that Ben is still struggling with whatever secret Reggie is threatening to tell. Ben cuts off any attempts to talk about this, and Klaus cuts off any attempts Ben makes to talk about his suicide. 

Ben’s siblings continue to push him to open up about what’s bothering him. Every single attempt turns into a fight, with Klaus feeding Ben increasingly nasty comebacks for their siblings. Every time Ben slams his door after finishing fighting with whatever sibling got on his nerves that time, Klaus pushes Ben more to drink. The others stop trying to reach out to their brother. 

The stress of having to keep his siblings and his father off his back is wearing Ben down. Because talking to any of his siblings would worry them, and like an alarm, set off Reginald, he talks to no one about his fear of his own powers overtaking him. He certainly can’t tell anyone about the bizarre situation of being the only friend of his dead brother’s ghost. 

He can’t talk to Klaus about this stuff, the guy is _hardcore_ projecting onto Ben and in deep denial about it, and clearly not over his own death as he’s pretending to be. Despite everything he’s going through himself, Ben can’t help but feel bad for his brother. The one good thing he can still do is try to help him, but Klaus keeps pushing him away. 

With every passing week, Klaus gets more and more clingy. The guy never shut up when he was alive, but now that he was dead and Ben was his only audience, it was even worse. Because now he was sober. And bitter. His emotions aren’t dulled by drugs anymore, everything that happened to him and Ben hit him full-force. 

When Klaus isn’t angry, he’s chatty. He fills every awkward silence at meals, has one-sided arguments with their father, asks Ben about his most recent nerd hobby, anything. 

He’d curse at Ben if he said it, but it was clear Klaus was just _incredibly_ lonely. Ben figured that’s just what it was like to be a ghost, having nobody in the whole world to talk to, having to watch your family tear itself apart over and over and being powerless to do anything about it. 

Ben comes back from missions looking worse and worse. He’s taking on more and more criminals to prove to Reginald that he’s not dragging the Academy down. On the contrary, Diego is starting to complain that Ben’s making the others look bad by comparison, killing before anyone else gets the chance to. Ben feels like he’s losing the battle with the monster inside of him. He wears himself out, restraining The Horror’s flood of anger. Occasionally, Ben’s control slips, and any criminals in his path are absolutely obliterated. (The crime scene cleaners are paid extra to wipe the human-colored slime off the walls, and are paid even more to keep quiet about it). When his vision clears, Ben’s mind feels clearer than it has in years. The feeling was cathartic. He could see how his brother fell into addiction so easily. 

Despite his healing powers, Ben has to be taken to the infirmary after missions, when he grows pale and feverish and too weak to stand on his own. It started off as a precaution, only necessary every once in a while, on particularly brutal missions. But now, between the exhaustion of holding his powers back and the times that he didn’t, Ben pushed himself so hard that his trips to the infirmary were as routine as changing out of his bloodsoaked uniform. 

~~~

It had become Klaus’ routine to wait in the foyer for his siblings to return from missions. He’d never wanted to resort to waiting up on the others, he remembered how annoying it’d been to return home bloodied and exhausted, only to see Vanya peeking out from behind the banister. Almost as if she was rubbing it in that she got off scot-free. Or worse, that she envied them. 

But Ben was starting to freak him out. It was clear his powers were starting to take a toll on him, and that was before the others started having to literally carry him through the door, often straight to the infirmary. So yeah, even though Ben resented it, Klaus waited up on him. 

This particular day, Klaus was practicing his flying (more like hovering). The most he could do was will his body to move in any one direction, although ironically not much faster than if he was walking. Despite that inconvenience, or maybe because of it, Klaus never walked anywhere again. He had taken a liking to curling his legs up under him and floating around like some knockoff X-Men character. This is how he was when the double doors burst open. 

The four remaining members of the Umbrella Academy looked exhausted. Reginald entered last, his face the same stoic mask it always was, except for the glint in his eye that was as close to happiness as Klaus ever saw him get. Clearly, he had picked out a difficult mission, and was satisfied with how hard his children had pushed themselves to complete it. 

Ben started down the hallway, walking shakily. Luther tried to offer his arm, but Ben brushed him off. The others hesitated for a moment, but decided it was better not to push help on their brother, and went their separate ways. Klaus hovered over to Ben. He had gotten familiar with his brother’s post-mission routine. Ben was heading to the laundry room in the basement, to change into a uniform with less blood on it. 

“Hey, Bennerino. Rough day at the office?” Klaus probed. 

“I’m _really_ not in the mood right now,” Ben scowled.

“Would it help if you saw how cool I look right now?” Klaus gestured at himself, sitting criss-cross in the air and floating alongside his brother.

“It would help, if you actually looked cool, and not like a huge tool.”

“Fair enough,” Klaus swung his legs back down underneath him. The two continued down the hallway in silence. “Oh hey, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Klaus flipped upside down mid-air, “how’s Luther dealing with you being the new Number One?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, being a ghost and all, you pick up things. Our beloved siblings do love to gossip about us, you know. Word on the street is you’re going through superhero puberty, really growing into your powers. You’re becoming the most valuable member of the team. Reggie’s perfect killing machine. Luther must _hate_ that,” Klaus sounded a little too gleeful.

“Shut up.” They had reached the bottom of the stairs. 

“Hey, calm down, it’s a complement. Losers like you and me never get the credit we deserve. But now? _They_ need _you_. That’s gotta feel good.”

“Klaus, drop it.”

“Speaking of feeling good, I’d give anything to be in the room when you go all ‘tentacle monster’ nowadays. All that pent-up teenage angst you hide _sooo_ well? God, I pity any common criminal who gets in your way. Not that I blame you, if I had powers like yours, I’d enjoy ripping people apart too-”

“ _I said, shut UP, Klaus!”_ Ben yelled. The anger in his voice was enough to stop Klaus in his tracks. Before Klaus could open his mouth to apologize;

“Ben?” A soft voice called from down the hall. Ben panicked and ducked sideways, into the kitchen. Klaus followed. Thankfully, the room was empty. Ben plastered his back against the wall, taking breaks from staring daggers at Klaus to crane his head and check the hallway for anyone approaching the kitchen.

Ben had just breathed a sigh of relief when not one, but all five of his siblings appeared in the doorway. His relief evaporated. 

“Hey, Ben,” It was Diego who spoke first. He had the same sympathetic look on his face that he had when the séance failed. Ben hated it. 

“Jesus christ, what is this, an intervention?” Klaus mumbled. Allison spoke next, her brow furrowed in concern:

“We’ve been, um, overhearing you, these past few weeks? Are you aware you’re talking to yourself? We know dad’s been pushing you really hard, especially since Klaus died. We think it might be starting to take a toll on you, mentally. Have you been having hallucinations very long?”

“Um, rude, I don’t call _you_ a hallucination.” 

“Klaus, for once in your life, shut up,” Ben turned to his brother without thinking. The startled siblings followed his gaze to an empty space above the kitchen table.

“My life’s already over, I don’t _have_ to do shit,” Klaus pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. Ben opened his mouth to respond, but stopped when he glanced over and saw his siblings’ scared expressions. 

The gravity of the situation caught up with him. His mind raced, trying to come up with some excuse for what they just saw that would get them off his back. His mind was blank. Ben’s heart started pounding. He was backed into a corner, he’d been stupid and let his guard down, and now everyone thought he’d gone off the deep end. 

Klaus’s expression changed as he caught on to his brother’s shift in mood. Ben’s panicked expression was not something he saw often, the only time he’d ever looked so scared was after his chat with Reggie. 

“Ben, we think you need to go to a hospital,” Luther took a step forward, “A real one, not what dad keeps doing. We can call right now if you need us to. Who-” he swallowed hard, “Who cares what dad thinks? We’ll get you there, and then we’ll talk to him. We’ll make dad understand, you won’t have to deal with him at all.” Ben went ghostly pale. 

“No, no you don’t understand. None of you understand. I’m fine, I just-” Ben ran his hands through his hair. He gripped it and tugged, hoping the pain would bring him back to reality. “Really, guys, I’m fine.” He looked and sounded almost frantic. Vanya broke away from the others, stepping even closer and laying a hand on Ben’s arm. 

“Ben, you’re not fine. You’re talking to Klaus like he’s still _here_. You need to get help,” her voice was gentle, but her words were too much for Ben to handle. His siblings were never going to let this slide, they were gonna have some kind of confrontation with their father, and that would be it. Reginald would tell the world how much of a monster Ben really was. Ben’s life would be over. He felt the words leave his mouth before he could stop them:

“No, really, you don’t understand. He _is_ here. Like, actually.” Ben's eyes darted around at his sibling’s faces. “Because- because of his powers. He said he _did_ go to the afterlife, but they sent him back as a ghost, something to do with his ability to summon ghosts in life. He can summon his own ghost, or- or something.” Nobody believed him, he could tell nobody believed him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now, Klaus didn’t want me to-” Ben turned to where, seconds before, his brother had been hovering. 

Klaus had gone over to Grace’s china cabinet. Ben barely had time to duck before his brother grabbed a plate off the shelf and lobbed it at his head. Everyone jumped as the plate smashed against the wall. 

“See?” Ben yelped, dodging another projectile, this time a teapot. His siblings didn’t speak. They just stared, open-mouthed, at the cabinet, the ceramic shards at their feet, and the patch of air that their dead brother apparently occupied. 

Ben looked back at Klaus. Now it was Klaus’ turn to stare daggers at Ben. He looked furious, and on the verge of tears. Klaus stormed straight past Ben and through his stunned siblings. Ben felt a twinge of regret. 

“Klaus, come back. Klaus!” He shoved the others aside and followed his brother into the hallway. Except Klaus was already gone. Ben ran down the hall, leaving the rest of his siblings still standing in place. 

Nobody moved, or even spoke, for a good few minutes. Eventually the ache in their legs got to them, and they all sat down around the kitchen table. Diego chuckled, the kind you give when you’re so shocked that you have no choice but to laugh.

“Klaus _did_ it. That son of a bitch actually did it. Dad would be so proud, if the man knew how to be proud of us.”

“This is insane, we can all agree this is insane, right? Our brother is back from the dead, that doesn’t happen.” Luther shook his head in confusion. Their lives had been surreal, literally from birth, but this was something else. 

“Not back, just here,” Diego corrected his brother. Klaus had still died, they had still found his body and buried him. 

“ _Apparently_ , he’s been here for weeks. How come Ben didn’t _tell_ us? Did we say something wrong?” Allison traced a coffee stain on the table with her finger as she spoke. 

“How come Klaus didn’t _want_ Ben to tell us?” Vanya mumbled, her voice fragile. Nobody knew what to say to that, so they returned to silence. 

  
  


Ben stormed through the halls of the Umbrella Academy. He rehearsed the apology he’d have to give to Klaus, as if he had anything to apologize for. He hated the flood of relief he’d felt when he told the others about Klaus’ ghost. He was just so _sick_ of walking on eggshells, from keeping secrets from everyone. And it’s not like he even had a choice, they were gonna tell dad. Klaus was dead, Reginald couldn’t do shit to him anymore. Ben still had to spend every day terrified of what cruel punishment he’d earn for stepping out of line. 

When Klaus was alive, he’d gone out of his way to pick fights with their father. He’d made it his life’s mission to annoy the man as much as possible, and he’d often roped Ben into his schemes. The two of them took their punishments together, they iced bruises across their knuckles, and snuck down to the kitchen late at night when they were denied dinner. They cursed their old man together. It was the only time they’d ever really felt close, before Klaus’ death. 

But now, when the two of them pissed Reginald off, Ben had to face his anger alone. Klaus was still throwing a wrench in Reginald’s perfect little superhero team, but Ben was the one who dealt with his consequences. 

Still fuming, Ben made it upstairs to the hallway where the Academy’s bedrooms were. He heard the sound of breaking glass and followed the noise to his own room. Ben burst through the door to see Klaus throwing his stuff out the window. 

“What the hell is wrong with you!?” Ben yelled frantically.

“What’s wrong with _me_ ? What the _hell_ , Ben? I asked one thing of you. Just one. I _begged_ you not to tell the others. I thought of all people, you could handle that.”

“For fucks sake, why does it _matter_? They still can’t see you. I’m still the one who’s stuck with you, not them.”

“Why the hell do you care so much about _why_? Can’t I have one thing to myself? You’re one to talk, you still won’t tell me what dad’s blackmailing you with. Why can’t I have this?”

“That is _not_ the same thing,” Ben’s eyes flared. “You don’t get it, do you? Dad _specifically_ told me not to bring you back. These past few weeks have been HELL, trying to do every single thing right so I wouldn’t get on dad’s bad side. So he wouldn’t-” Ben hesitated, “- _tell_ everyone about me. And I was doing it! It was torture, but I was doing it!”

Ben jabbed a finger in his brother’s face. 

“But now, because of _you_ , none of that matters. Don’t you get it? Someone’s gonna rat me out to dad, I know they will. They _say_ they care about me, that’s bullshit.” Ben yanked on his hair again. “Dad’s gonna tell the others, he’s gonna tell _everyone_ . The world’s gonna see who I really am, how much of a _monster_ I really am. My life is _over_. Because of you.”

“Well, I’m _sorry_ about that,” Klaus scowled. “I’m sorry you didn’t know me well enough to realize I would fuck everything up. But _you_ were the one who ratted me out to the others. I didn’t make you act like a huge fucking prick, and dad didn’t either. You did that yourself.” Klaus threw the book of Ben’s he was holding out the window. “You _knew_ that was the _one_ thing I cared about, but you did it anyway. _Why_ did you have to tell them?”

“Because they’re your family too. Like it or not, we loved you. And you traumatized us when you killed yourself and left us all to deal with it. They deserve to know that you’re back. Why won’t you let them try to make it up to you? Or, jesus christ, just let them apologize at least?”

“ _Because, unlike everyone else on the planet, I got screwed out of the right to die when I wanted to_ . I didn’t ask to come back, I didn’t _want_ to come back. But I got to be dead to the world as long as nobody knew the truth. You ruined that. You ruined the _one_ good thing that came out of this mess. Can you understand why that would _matter_ to me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry these past weeks have really sucked for you. I’m sorry you got a chance to see your family again, I’m sorry you got something nobody who killed themselves has ever gotten, a second chance at life, that really sucks for you.” Ben started angrily pacing back and forth.

“Not us, who had to pull your body out of a bathtub full of your own blood. Not _me_ , who everyone blames for your death, by the way. Not me, whose only friend killed himself. How do you think that feels, by the way? To know your best friend thought so little of you he didn’t tell you he was suicidal. Did you really think I hated you _that much_ , that you thought I wouldn’t try to stop you?” Klaus opened his mouth but Ben cut him off.

“No, you’re right, it sucks for you. Not me, whose family hates me now, because of all the bullshit you dumped on me when you died, including the role of Family Disappointment. Except it’s worse, because unlike you, I actually care what everyone thinks about me. And you’re still dumping your bullshit on me! Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing. You don’t get to air out your grievances with our family through me. I’m not you, I’m not going to drug myself into a stupor because I don’t have anyone else to talk to, because I pissed off everyone else in the whole world.” Ben was full-on yelling now. 

“-Here’s a thought, if you had so much bullshit you still wanted to do, _maybe you shouldn’t have killed yourself_.” Ben regretted the words the second they left his mouth.

Klaus’ eyes were wild with anger. 

“Drop dead.” He stormed through Ben and out the door. 

Ben felt a lot of things all at once: anger at Klaus and regret for what he’d said, anger at his siblings for sucking at actually acting like siblings, terror at what tomorrow would bring when Reginald learned that Ben was hiding Klaus from him. Ben stepped towards his bed, but was hit with a gust of cold wind from his newly broken window. Cursing, Ben left his bedroom and beelined for Klaus’. He wasn’t using it, anyway. 

Stepping inside, Ben felt a fresh wave of anger towards his brother. He grabbed the lamp off his bedside table and threw it at the wall. It made a loud _crack_ as it shattered against the wall, but Ben couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, he slid his arms across the shelves around Klaus’ room, sending all his junk to the floor. Anything breakable was sent the same direction as the lamp. Ben then reached under Klaus’ bed, grabbing empty bottles of every type of alcohol imaginable, and sending them spiraling into the wall. 

Ben stopped short as he hefted out a nearly full bottle of whiskey. It was expensive, clearly something he stole from their dad’s minibar. Ben scowled and sat down hard on Klaus’ bed. He turned the bottle around in his hands, watching the amber liquid swirl around. Grumbling to himself, he twisted the lid off and took a swig. The teenager instantly doubled over, coughing. The booze was bitter and burned on its way down his throat. Once he was done coughing, Ben chugged some more. He stayed this way for a while, sitting in silence on the bed, fuming and nursing the bottle. 

He’s interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. Ben panicked, he screwed the lid back on with shaky hands and shoved the whiskey back under the bed. 

“Come in,” Ben called. The door opened. It was Diego’s turn to hover awkwardly in the doorway. 

“Hey, Ben, I heard noise in here, something breaking? Are you okay? What are you doing in here?”

“Um, I wanted to…” Ben looked around the room, “connect with Klaus, y’know?”

“Isn’t he here?”

“Yeah, sorry. I just meant, Klaus wanted me to go through his stuff for him.”

“And break it?” Diego looked at the mess on the floor. Ben hesitated. 

“Yes?”

“I guess that makes sense,” Diego shrugged.

“Wait, why did _you_ come in here?”

“I wanted to ask you something, and you weren’t in your room. What the hell happened to your window, by the way?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ben rubbed his eyes. “What do you need?”

“You said Klaus is here, right? Like, right now, obviously.” Diego turned red. 

“Yeah,” Ben lied, “why?”

“I want to talk to him.”

“Oh. Uh…” Ben looked wary. 

“Is that okay with him?”

“Oh, no, you’re fine, I just…” Ben took a deep breath, tried to will himself to be more sober. “He’s, uh, right here,” He patted the empty space next to him on the bed. “Shoot.”

“Geez, okay. Um. Hi, Klaus, buddy. I guess I just wanted to…” Diego chuckled. “You know I suck at talking about my feelings, sorry.” Silence. Ben realized with a start he was waiting for a response. 

“Um, he says you always were a neanderthal. If you could solve every problem by throwing something at it, you would. And you often did.” Diego chuckled. 

“Yeah, that’s right. Classic Diego.” He took a deep breath. “Klaus, I just wanted to say sorry, for… _everything_ . Sorry for being an asshole to you all the time. Sorry for not seeing how much you were _going through_ . I really dropped the ball as a big brother. I just-” His voice cracked “-you don’t know what it means to me to get to do this. When you died, and I thought I’d never get to make things right with you? It was, um. Rough, to put it nicely. I’m sorry I made you think you couldn’t show yourself to me. I just wish you would tell me _why_. Why you… you know…” Ben shifted uncomfortably on the bed. 

“Um, I’m sorry, Diego, but I don’t think he wants to talk about that right now?” Diego turned red again.

“Sure, sorry.”

“In fact, he kinda wants to be alone now. Nothing personal, it’s just been a long day, you know?” A bit of venom crept into Ben’s voice.

“Oh. Okay, I’ll get out of your hair, then.” Diego wiped his eyes, and walked back to the door. He turned and looked back at Ben.

“Thanks, Ben. I mean it.”

“No problem,” Ben forced a smile that dropped off when Diego left and shut the door behind him. Ben reached under the bed and brought the bottle of whiskey back out. He took another swig, and then just sat fuming. Typical of his siblings to go from panicking about Ben to making him their therapist in the same day. Of course they wanted to talk to Klaus, they wanted to resolve all their issues so they could feel less guilty about his death. And if they had to put up with Ben to do that, so be it. 

Ben sat on Klaus’ bed for hours. He was expecting his brother to burst through the door, literally, and yell at him some more. Maybe throw more fine china at his head. But he remained alone. Ben eventually drifted off to sleep, Klaus’ bottle of whiskey still in his hand, and the broken remains of Klaus’ possessions still covering the floor. Nobody came looking for him at dinner. Whether his siblings had protected him from Reginald's wrath, or he just cared that little about Ben, he never knew.

That night, in the middle of the night, every sibling was roused from their sleep by Grace. Every sibling except Ben. The children yawned and rubbed their eyes, but still obediently followed their mother downstairs, in the same line they had always walked in. They cast worried glances at each other as they arrived at the door to Reginald’s office. Grace knocked once on the door, and then opened it. The siblings filed into their father’s office just like they had as little kids, when they’d wanted him to tell them goodnight. Now, they were terrified, because _he_ had asked for _them_.

Reginald put down the pen he was writing with and spoke, matter-of-fact as ever:

“You children are not to lie to me. Is it true that Number Four has used his powers to return to this house as a ghost and has been communicating with Number Six, and is it true that Number Six has been withholding this information?”


	7. The Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben Hargreeves goes on his first ever solo mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one gets pretty graphic at the end, I'd say way more so than chapter one, but in a different way. No spoilers. Proceed with caution.
> 
> Other notes at the end, for partial spoiler reasons.

The next morning, Ben woke up to a splitting headache. It took a second for him to blink the spots out of his eyes when he opened them, sunlight was spilling through the window. His head still throbbing, Ben slowly remembered what had happened last night. He remembered telling his siblings the truth about Klaus. He remembered their fight; what he had said. He remembered storming into Klaus’ room, getting drunk and trashing his stuff. And then he remembered Diego coming in to check on him. No, he wasn’t checking on Ben, he was asking to talk to Klaus. And Ben had let him think he was. 

Ben felt shitty, and not just because he was hungover. Even if he had been backed into a corner and kinda forced to tell the others about Klaus, it was still a shitty thing to do. He knew that. He couldn’t stop replaying their fight in his head, all the terrible things he’d said. Ben wished Klaus would come back. If not to let him apologize, at least to give him whatever hangover cure he’d always used. 

Ben was still summoning the strength to get out of bed when he heard a knock at the door. Whoever it was didn’t wait for an answer before swinging the door open. It was… Grace? Ben’s mother wore an expression he’d never seen on her before: she was scared. That was enough to make Ben shoot up in bed, shoving the whiskey bottle behind him.

“I was worried, Ben. You weren’t in your room and-” She glanced behind her, “Your father is looking for you. He’s very upset. There’s an emergency downtown, you children are to help. Right now. The car is out front. Please, don’t be too long.” Grace hurried down the hall to rejoin the others, high heels clicking.

Ben cursed under his breath. Lucky for him, he’d passed out last night still in his uniform. It was wrinkled, which any other day would mean losing dinner that night. But he couldn’t worry about that now, being absent when the Academy needed him was _so_ much worse. Ben hopped around the broken glass on the floor and started down the hall. 

As he walked, he smoothed his uniform and wondered where they were being sent. Reginald chose missions two ways: either they were group training sessions or publicity stunts. Any crimes he picked up on that were “beneath them” would need to get stopped some other way. Bank robbery missions had fallen out of fashion, Reginald had decided. They just didn’t dominate the news cycle like they used to. Lucky for the banks, criminals were too afraid of those freaks in school uniforms to try robbing banks anymore, but if they had they would find no resistance. But impromptu missions like this were incredibly rare. Reginald always briefed them about where they were going and what they were doing. They’d spend up to weeks training for particular missions, memorizing building layouts and doing dry runs. If he was sending them out on an emergency, it must be incredibly worth his while. 

Ben didn’t have to wonder for long. He arrived at the foyer, where everyone else was waiting. He self-consciously smoothed his uniform again, avoiding his father’s gaze. His siblings gave him worried glances but he avoided them, too. Reginald gestured to Grace, and she opened the double doors that led outside. Ben hesitated for a second. Despite everything, he wished Klaus could come with him. 

The family was silent as they filed down the front steps and into the waiting limousine, Reginald in front and the children in back, as usual. Grace gave the siblings a weak smile and a hushed “good luck” before shutting the car door. She remained smiling on the steps as the car pulled away. The car ride was quiet. It was clear that none of the others knew where they were going, either. Everyone shifted uncomfortably in their seats, watching the city go by outside the windows. Weirdly enough, it was Luther who broke the silence this time.

“Hey, Ben?”

Ben winced, preparing to make up a lie about why he slept in and looked like shit.

“Yeah?”

“Is Klaus here now?”

Ben exhaled. Of course, Klaus was the new hot topic in the family. Why should he think the others would worry about him anymore.

“Um, no, actually. He’s contained to the house, I think?” That wasn’t technically a lie, he wasn’t here, but the others didn’t need to know it was because Ben had scared him off.

Luther grunted, nodding, as that explanation made as much sense as any of this. The rest of the car ride was quiet. 

It wasn’t long after when the limousine pulled to the side of the street, outside a hospital. There were no police cars, no reporters, no crowds of civilians, nothing. It was eerily normal. The siblings remained in their seats, looking around at each other in confusion. Reginald got out of the car. He walked to the back of the limousine and opened the door to view his confused children. 

“On this mission, stealth is absolutely vital. I have received intelligence that there is a terrorist cell planning to place a bomb in the basement of this hospital. There will be no police interference because that will undoubtedly make the criminals aware of our presence. The Umbrella Academy is the sole thing that can save the lives of everyone inside that building. Specifically-” He jabbed his cane in Ben’s direction, “Number Six.”

Ben couldn’t understand what he was hearing. He opened his mouth to ask, but Allison beat him to it.

“I’m sorry, what? We _never_ do solo missions. You can’t possibly expect him to-”

“You will silence yourself this instant, Number Three!” Reginald snapped. “As I have said, sending in any more than one one of you _will_ jeopardize the entire mission. Number Six is more than capable. He will have to be, there are too many lives at stake.The rest of you are here as backup. You are _only_ permitted to step in if Number Six perishes and fails to complete the mission. Is that clear?”

The others cast more sympathetic glances at Ben. He ignored them, looking straight at their father. Ben’s face was stony, he tried his best to mask his terror. He would _not_ let Reginald’s bullying get to him. 

“Number Six, you will be briefed on the situation when you enter the hospital. I have placed my faith in you, do not make me regret it.” With that, Reginald took his hand off the car door and returned to his seat in the front of the limousine. Ben steeled himself and got out of the car. A hand wrapped around his own and held him in place. Ben turned around to see his sister, with a pained expression.

“Ben,” Allison started, “wait.”

“This isn’t the time, Allison.” Ben tugged his hand away from his sister.

“You’re trying to be brave. I get it. But Ben, this is _crazy_ . You could get hurt, _really_ hurt. I don’t know what kind of weird stunt dad’s pulling but this is too much for you. He knows it is.”

Diego joined in:

“You don’t have to do this alone, Ben. Dad can’t make you. We’ll sneak in, we’ll do something.”

“Like you ‘did something’ when dad locked Klaus in a mausoleum for hours at a time?” Ben snapped. Diego looked hurt. “Seriously, this isn’t the time. You heard dad, lives are at stake. I don’t get to be selfish. I’m _fine_.” Before anyone could argue, Ben stomped across the parking lot and up the stairs to the hospital.

When Ben entered the lobby, everything was normal. A couple passing nurses arched an eyebrow at the teenager in the schoolboy uniform, but otherwise he was ignored. Ben started towards the front desk when he was intercepted by a young woman in scrubs. She must have been in her mid twenties, and was wringing her hands nervously. 

“Sorry, are you the, uh… Are you with the organization that said you’d help with the, uh, _situation_ downstairs?”

“I am. Can I ask why you aren’t evacuating?”

“We don’t want to cause a panic before it’s necessary. You understand.” Ben didn’t understand. “More importantly, we can’t let anyone downstairs know that we’re aware of what they’re doing, it might make them panic. Who knows what they’d do if they panicked.” The woman glanced around to make sure nobody had overheard her. She then gestured to her left, and put on a bright, fake smile. “Right this way, young man!”

The two walked past waiting rooms full of families, a cafeteria, and some offices before stopping at a nondescript metal door. Ben reached in his jacket pocket and turned his mask around over and over in his hand. 

“The basement’s through here. Follow the staircase down until you reach the bottom. The lighting isn’t too good, and there’s a lot of old equipment stored down there, so watch your step. You’ll go down the hallway, make a left at the first chance you can, and continue until you reach the boiler room. That’s where we think they’re hiding out. You got all that?”

Ben swallowed hard.

“I do.”

“Good.” She swiped her ID through a reader next to the door. There was a quiet _beep_ and a click, and the door unlocked. The woman grunted as she pulled it open. Ben stepped through into the dim fluorescent-lit stairwell. “And hey,” she called. He turned around to face her. She gave a weak smile “Good luck.” With that, she shut the door between them, and Ben was alone on a mission for the first time in his life. 

Ben pulled his mask out of his pocket and put it on. He took a shaky breath, looking around at the dingy concrete walls of the stairwell. Having summoned as much courage as he could, Ben started down the stairs. 

He hadn’t gotten far before he heard footsteps on the landing below him. Ben crouched, peering over the railing as far as he safely could. There were two burly men with guns heading up the staircase with no sign of stopping. As if by second nature, Ben hopped up onto the railing, gripping it and using all his might to swing down and into the lower landing. His sneakers hit one man in the gut, sending him to the floor, wheezing. The other opened fire, and Ben fought the urge to clamp his hands over his ears to block out the deafening noise. Sparks illuminated the gloom as bullets pinged off the metal of the staircase. 

Ben ducked below the fire, and swung across with his leg, knocking the second man over. There was a dull _crack_ as his head hit the ground. Ben took a moment to pat himself down for bullet wounds, slowing his breathing and trying to slow his heart rate as he did. He bent down and checked the two men for pulses. He let out a tiny sigh of relief. Both were still alive, just unconscious. Ben knew he had to get going, that all that noise had surely sent more gunmen running in his direction. He let himself take a couple more deep breaths, than resumed his trip down into the dark of the hospital basement. 

Ben reached the bottom of the staircase. The lights down here were even dimmer. He grabbed the handle of the industrial metal door and struggled to pull it open. There was no keycard reader this time, but the door was just as heavy as the one upstairs, if not more. A rudimentary form of security, if he had to guess.

Ben continued to support the door as it slid shut, to make sure it didn’t make too much noise when it did. In the seconds that took, Ben scanned the hallway he’d just shut himself in. His eyes were still adjusting to the low lighting, but he made out rows of doors, leading into what could have been old offices. Carts full of supplies, busted wheelchairs, filing cabinets, and ratty waiting room furniture lined the hall. Everything was covered in a layer of dust, and the sheer bulk of the old equipment made the already-narrow hallway even narrower. 

Ben ducked under a sofa, just as three gunmen came out of a room at the far end of the hallway, muttering about the gunfire they’d heard. Ben waited, curled under the sofa in complete silence. He was listening for which way they were going. The voices slowly got closer and closer to his hiding spot. Ben cursed under his breath. It was too much to hope they wouldn’t. 

Ben grabbed a bottle off the cart next to him, aimed, and threw it into the room closest to him. He heard quick footsteps, and before he could second-guess himself, he jumped out from his hiding spot and lunged towards the door, slamming it shut on the gunmen inside. Ben went to lock the door, but panicked when he found that the door didn't have one. Mind racing, he went for the next best thing: a filing cabinet that he dragged in front of the door to hold it shut. He winced as the men on the other side swore and pounded against the door, but it held. 

“Hey asshole!” Ben whipped around and immediately cursed himself for being so stupid. The third gunman had ducked into another room when his two partners had investigated the noise, and now had his gun trained on Ben. Ben put his hands up in the air.

“Who the hell are you?” The man demanded. 

Ben tried to keep his voice steady, confident like Luther or casual like Five. 

“Don’t worry about it. This doesn’t have to end badly. I know what you’re planning and you’re not going to get away with it. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will. You can lock yourself in that room and pretend you never saw me. We’ll both get out of this alive.”

The man laughed, loud and harsh, and opened fire. Ben darted behind the filing cabinet, but not before a bullet grazed his cheek. Ben felt the familiar sharp sting and brought his hand to his face. His fingers came back slick with blood. Ben took a deep breath and steeled himself for what came next. 

“I tried to warn you!” He called down the hall. He listened for the rustling that meant the man was reloading his gun, and then stepped into the open once more. He wanted the asshole who shot him to see this. What happened next was a blur for his already pain-addled brain. 

Ben let out a yell, so loud that for a moment the man stopped loading his gun and stood in shock. Ben clenched his fists so hard he felt his nails cut into his palms. His knees threatened to buckle under him as he rode the familiar wave of pain, watched The Horror punch itself out through his stomach. He’d gotten used to the sound of his own flesh ripping, the gunman clearly was not. Now thoroughly terrified, he shakily lifted his gun and resumed fire. 

Before he could get more than a couple shots off, one tentacle, dripping with Ben’s blood, yanked the gun out of his hands and flung it behind them. The man tried to run, but another tentacle tightened itself around him with a muffled _crunch_ , holding the now screaming man in place. A third tentacle wrapped around his head and snapped his neck, making the hallway silent once again. The two men trapped inside the office had gone quiet once the screaming started, and weren’t about to make themselves targets now. 

Temporarily satisfied, The Horror shrunk back from the body, choosing instead to writhe around Ben. Ben was mildly aware of the blood still eeking out of his stomach and staining his shirt. _Mom would be pissed_. The thought almost made him laugh. Ben forced himself to keep moving, taking shaky steps past the body, turning left at the corner. As Ben continued deeper into the depths of the basement, like clockwork, his thoughts began to sour. 

The image of that man’s neck snapping was already burning itself in his mind. _He’d warned him, he had. But how could the man have possibly known what that meant. Should Ben have done more to keep from killing him, like he had the men on the stairwell?_ Ben shook his head. _No. These are bad guys. They’re trying to kill people, a lot of people. This guy tried to kill you. They can’t get away with that._

_You’ve killed a lot of people,_ a voice in Ben’s head offered up. _These guys haven’t even done it yet, and they deserve to die, but you kill person after person and you get to be a hero? You really are a wolf in sheep’s clothing, you know that? You pretend to be a superhero so you can get away with killing whoever you want. And you say_ we’re _the monster. What a joke._

Ben’s chest tightened. 

“That’s not fair,” the boy said to the empty hallway. 

_It’s just like dad said. You lie to your siblings, pretend to hate your work, but we both know that’s not true. And now dad does. And Klaus too, that’s gotta feel good. The only friend you ever had really knows you now, knows you’re a freak. As if he’d ever talk to you again, anyway, after what you said last night. You really know how to screw up anything good in your life, huh?_

“Hey, _you’re_ the one who made me-”

_Bullshit. I don’t make you do anything. Someday you gotta own up and realize that there’s no one making you a monster but yourself, Benny. You say it’s your siblings, or your father, or your powers. But you know that’s a lie. It’s you. Nobody’s ruining your life but you._

Ben was so in his own head that he barely noticed that he’d reached the end of the hallway. A single door, marked “Boiler Room”, jutted out of the wall. _Could it be that easy_? Ben wondered. He doubted it. This door was just as heavy as the last. 

Ben blinked as he stepped into the boiler room. It was much more brightly lit than the rest of the basement, if still with the same harsh fluorescent light. Huge vats took up most of the space in the room. Metal pipes twisted along the walls and over Ben’s head up into the ceiling a surprisingly far way up. A thin metal staircase on the far side of the room was flanked by two sets of double doors. The staircase itself led up to a tiny platform where a lot of the pipes converged, where gages spun and tiny display screens blinked. The air was chokingly warm, and Ben began to sweat under his uniform. Some mechanism in the room was giving off a high whining sound, which made Ben’s head throb. The whole thing seemed more like a fever dream than reality. 

Ben tried to bring himself back to reality. This wasn’t the time to screw up. He focused on the pain, the sensation of The Horror still churning his insides as it writhed around him, waiting for someone else to kill. It wasn’t long before it got it’s wish. Ben heard footsteps from the opposite end of the room. He ducked behind the nearest vat, but not before someone yelled out “Hey, you!” and the footsteps broke into a sprint. 

A tentacle jutted out around the corner. Ben watched as the man was dragged past by his ankles, screaming. If he’d had a gun he clearly wasn’t as confident in using it as the last man. He must have dropped it the second he saw The Horror. Gunfire rattled through the metal-filled room, alerting Ben and The Horror to the presence of another gunman. Ben waited as The Horror slammed the man it was holding into the pipes on the ceiling again and again until he came away bloody and silent. It then chucked the body in the direction of the gunfire. 

Ben peeked around the vat he was hiding behind just as he heard the crackle of a walkie-talkie. He was calling for help. Fear gripped Ben. He didn’t need them panicking and activating the bombs. Without thinking, Ben sprinted down the length of the room

“-Need backup now, I repeat, NOW!” The man was yelling into the walkie-talkie, attempting to shoot at Ben with his free hand. Wasting no time, The Horror shot forward, punching through the man’s chest and out the other side. He wildly swung the gun around, still firing, as The Horror withdrew and he slumped to the ground. 

Ben felt his heart race again. They were sending backup. That was good, because it meant they weren’t so nervous as to detonate the bombs yet. That was bad because it meant more criminals he had to deal with. Ben leaned against one of the vats, trying to slow his breathing and avoid looking at the corpse with the pockmarks in his chest and the eyes wild with fear. Well, he tried his best to avoid looking at it. Ben should have been used to the sight of his victims by now, he’d been making corpses for seven years. But he wasn’t.

Ben was fighting the urge to vomit when he heard the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat above him. He jumped, his eyes darting up to the metal platform. A scrawny but tall man in a suit stepped out from the shadows. 

“So you’re the freakshow who’s been killing all my guards.” He said with a drawl that was either incredibly confident or incredibly stupid. Ben would have thought the whole thing too cliche to be real, would have ended the man who was apparently the head of the operation right where he stood, if not for what he saw next. 

The man reached his arm back into the shadows, and yanked forward a little girl in a hospital gown. She had the bleary eyes of someone who’d been yanked from her bed, out of sleep. She was clutching a stuffed rabbit, severed IV tubes dangling from her arm. She let out a stifled sob as the man wrapped one arm around her, using his other to press a gun to her forehead. 

Ben held his palms up in a placating gesture. He took a couple steps toward the staircase. His mind reeled for what to say. De-escalation wasn’t Reginald Hargreeves’ weapon of choice, so he taught his children very little of it. 

“Please, lower the gun. I’ll do whatever you say. Just, please. You don’t have to let her go. Just move the gun.”

Ben’s insides churned, both from anxiety and from The Horror sensing the tension. 

“You don’t give the orders here, kid, I do. You’re gonna cut out whatever the hell is going on with that _thing_ coming out of your chest, or I shoot the kid.”

Ben made eye contact with the girl. She was crying now. He wanted to tell her it was going to be alright, that he was the good guy, that he would do anything he had to to get her out of here safely. What happened next proved that would have been a lie. 

There was a metallic clatter behind him, followed by cursing. Ben turned to see a man who’d been attempting to sneak up on him, bending down to grab his gun. Lightning-fast, The Horror grabbed the intruder by the ankles and flung him into the wall. Ben’s mouth fell open, he whipped around to face the man on the platform. His voice shrill, he didn’t get out more than a pleading “wait!” before the gun went off and the little girl crumpled to the floor. 

Hearing the gunfire, even more men burst through the doors flanking the staircase. Ben was shaking now, tears streaming down his face. The whine of the machines grew louder and louder. The men aimed their guns at the teenager, but before they could fire, he let out a guttural yell. Two tentacles reached beyond the attackers and slammed the doors shut hard enough to dent the metal. Nobody was getting in or out of the room. 

The gunmen panicked and opened fire. Ben remained rooted in place, still crying as The Horror swirled around him, bullets thudding against its skin. The pain was all-consuming. Between that and the guilt, Ben fought to stay conscious. He would _not_ black out. He would make these cowards pay if it was the last thing he did. None of his other kills mattered, none of the ones he was about to cause mattered. The only death he would ever see would be that little girl’s. He’d let her die. It was his fault. He could never lie to himself and pretend he wasn’t a monster again. The dead body of this girl was proof. 

After the first volley of bullets was done, Ben retaliated. The gunmen faltered at the pure fury in the teenager’s gaze. First, two tentacles grabbed the nearest men and threw them against the metal doors with all their strength. The next two’s heads were twisted clockwise until their necks snapped, their spines with them. Finally, the remaining two were grabbed around the waist, their heads smashed into the concrete floor again and again until they were all but unrecognizable.

Ben then turned to the man on the platform, who was attempting to slink away.

“Bring him to me,” Ben ordered. 

The Horror wrapped itself around the man and brought him close. He winced as the tentacles tightened around his body little by little. All confidence had abandoned him.

“Wait. Wait. Before you do anything, I’ve gotta tell you something. I-”

“No.” Ben cocked his head to the side and The Horror crushed the man in its grasp like an empty can. 

Ben’s head was swimming. Despite the heat in the boiler room, he felt feverish and clammy. He took a step back to the door he came from and almost collapsed to the ground. The ground, covered in blood and, well, things that were “internal” for a reason. 

Ben couldn’t even process the carnage around him. He watched his body take shaky steps to the door. The Horror yanked the door open for him, what a gentleman. Ben started down the hallway. Despite leaving the boiler room behind, he couldn’t stop sweating. Ben forced himself to keep walking. It was that or face what was behind him.

Ben stopped short when he turned the corner and saw his first victim, the man whose bullet had scraped him across the cheek. Ben’s stomach churned as he stood, staring at the huge purple bruises from where The Horror had gripped him as it snapped his neck. Fatigue began to set in, and Ben vaguely wondered if Reginald would mind if he just stayed down here forever. 

Ben didn’t even look up as there was a loud _clang_ down the hallway. The two men he’d trapped in an office (minutes? hours?) ago had kicked through the door, knocking over the filing cabinet Ben had used as a barricade. Ben only looked up when bullets started whizzing past his head. 

A single tentacle shot forward this time. It punched straight through the stomach of one, and then both of the attackers. It smacked the bodies up into the ceiling, and then a couple of times back and forth against the walls for good measure, before retreating back to its host. 

Ben tried to take a step forward but immediately fell onto his hands and knees, still next to the one man’s body. Ben wondered if this is how he would die, from pure exhaustion. The thought of having to spend eternity as a ghost with Klaus was enough to get him back to his feet. Ben stumbled, slowly but surely, down the hallway. He stopped again at the door that led to the stairwell. He was afraid to ask much more of his own powers, so he yanked the door open himself, the effort almost making him collapse again. 

It was incredibly slow progress, Ben hoisting himself up the stairs. He stopped up short when he reached the two men he’d knocked unconscious at the beginning of all this. Ben took a deep breath, summoned whatever strength he had left. They were a part of this, too. No one could get away with what had happened to that little girl. Once more, The Horror wrapped tentacles around both men’s heads, crushing them as easily as watermelons. Ben forced himself to ignore the sound, the spray that covered his uniform. 

Only one more flight of stairs, and then the door, and Ben was in the main hospital again. He stared at the terrazzo floor as he walked, ignoring the stares of the people around him. He just wanted to go home. The young woman who’d met him in the lobby didn’t return, which he was grateful for. One less person to have to explain himself to. 

Ben was tripping over his own feet by the time he left through the front doors of the hospital. The last things he saw were all of his siblings standing around nervously, with their father behind them. Their faces were white with shock at their brother, pale as death and covered in viscera. With a faint chuckle, Ben realized The Horror was still out in the open, that probably didn’t help things. Ben pitched forward. He had enough consciousness left to feel Diego scoop him up, yank his arm out and check for a pulse. There was some muffled arguing, and Ben was transferred over into Luther’s arms, then everything went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben is not dead! Let's get that out of the way at the beginning lol.
> 
> Sorry for the late chapter! This one ended up being wayyy longer than i thought it would be.  
> I'm thinking I'll probably stick to posting on Sundays, but school is getting pretty hard to handle, especially because we are now in November, aka Finals Crunch Month. 
> 
> This was my first time writing an action sequence, let me know how I did!
> 
> Okay, and I'm gonna get out front and say, this is NOT a "the voices in my head tell me to kill people" thing, we do not demonize people with hallucinations/intrusive thoughts in this house. Any "other voice" is just Ben putting words to The Horror's thoughts that it can't literally say because it is a sentient pile of tentacles. That being said, if anything I've written still seems to be shitty and stereotypical towards the aforementioned mentally ill people, PLEASE let me know so I can cut that shit out.
> 
> Edit: there was a continuity error right at the end, so I had to fix it, it was driving me nuts. It's barely noticeable, but if you do catch it, you are not going crazy.


	8. Some Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus cools down after the fight, and gets introspective. The Umbrella Academy returns from Ben's solo mission. Klaus sees something he shouldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! Sorry for the hiatus, but now that the holidays are over updates should be a LOT more frequent. Which I realize isn't saying much, anything more than zero would be more frequent than it has been. 
> 
> I say it a lot but thank you all so much for your kudos and ESPECIALLY your comments, it means so much to know that people are liking this story, and looking forward to more. Really, i appreciate it so much. This is my first fanfic and I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants, so the feedback has been so nice to hear.
> 
> Okay, enough sappy stuff. Enjoy!

Klaus spent the night on the roof of the Umbrella Academy. He doubted Ben would come looking for him but he didn’t want to take any chances. He was _not_ about to deal with his brother yet, have to mumble some half-assed apology. As if he was the one who needed to apologize.

The next morning, Klaus paced around on the roof, trying to kick around the cigarette butts and soda cans the siblings had hidden up there. But whatever ghostly strength he had used yesterday to throw Grace’s china and Ben’s books was long gone. 

Eventually Klaus grew bored, but he still didn’t feel like bumping into his brother back downstairs. Instead, he sat down on the roof, dangling his feet over the edge. Klaus blinked the light out of his eyes and gazed up at the snowy overcast sky, almost exactly the same as it was on the day he came back to life. Or whatever this nightmare was. Klaus chuckled bitterly to himself. All he had wanted to do was die. What a joke it was turning out to be. 

~~~

The weeks before Klaus died, he thought about death a lot, particularly his own. His mind drifted more and more to what it might actually look like. Like any habit he had, it would have seemed horrific to outsiders, but gave him a weird sense of comfort. Like Klaus’ life had been out of his own hands from the second he was born Extraordinary. Like the one thing left that he could take for himself was his life. 

Klaus fantasized about the means of his death. It became a mantra, a way to ground himself when his father or his siblings were particularly nasty towards him. It was his insurance, and it was inevitable. He found himself wondering with morbid curiosity what thing would finally push him over the edge. 

Sometimes, Klaus imagined getting caught, someone stepping in and saving him before the damage was permanent. He didn’t know _what_ to think of these fantasies. What the hell did they mean, that trying to kill himself was some test to see who really loved him enough to stop him? That deep down, he didn’t want to die? Or that he wanted to die, but was such a failure that part of his brain knew he wasn’t strong enough to go through with it? 

Klaus tried not to think about it, but his thoughts always drifted to whoever would find his body. It was the one part of this he felt guilty about. He played a game in his mind, going down the list of his siblings and guessing what they might do, whether any of them would even care. Of course, he always decided even if they did, they’d get over it pretty quickly. Klaus was the screw-up, after all. His siblings had made their feelings towards him pretty clear. 

But, every once in a while, the image of a brother or sister clutching his body and crying latched itself in Klaus’ mind and wouldn’t let go. And Klaus felt a twinge of guilt. His siblings sucked, sure. The thought of them having to lie through their teeth and say nice things about Klaus at his funeral was hilarious. But traumatizing them by letting them find his body was a bit much, even for them. _Better make sure you’re alone when you die,_ Klaus decided. 

When Klaus had opened his eyes after finally blacking out in the bathtub, and all he saw was blinding white, for a second he wondered if the unthinkable happened and he had been taken to a hospital. He was relieved to blink the sun out of his eyes, look around, and realize that wasn’t true. He really was dead. At least until god showed up and sent him back, like the absolute prick she was. Like it was nothing. Like Klaus didn’t deserve rest and happiness, even in death. 

And Ben had the nerve to say he had it worse. He couldn’t _possibly_ know how shitty Klaus’ past few weeks had been. 

~~~

Freshly angry, Klaus took it out on the cans again. Still no luck. Klaus lost his balance and landed hard on the roof tiles. If he was still alive he might have broken a rib. He lay there, grumbling to himself and staring up at the winter sky until sounds of commotion coming from the street made him bolt upright. 

Klaus ran to the edge of the roof to see the limousine reserved for missions pulled up to the curb. All of his siblings, still in their uniforms, were crowded around Luther, who was yelling for mom. Or at least trying to yell, his voice was going hoarse. The crowd shifted and revealed Ben, crumpled up in Luther’s arms and as pale as death. He was drenched from head to toe in blood, with some kind of dark object, maybe his uniform jacket, crumpled over his stomach. Klaus stood rooted in place. He was too far away from the crowd on the ground to see much of what was happening, but still, his eyes darted around Ben’s body for any sign of life. 

Luther continued to yell for mom. Allison looked like she might throw up. Diego had taken off his jacket and was wiping the blood from Ben’s face. Their father remained by the limousine, making no move to help his son. Their father, who put that son in danger in the first place.

The siblings jumped as Ben let loose a cry that could be heard from Klaus’ spot on the roof. Luther struggled to keep Ben in his arms as the object on his stomach shifted. What Klaus thought was a blanket was his brother’s “superpower”. The oily black tentacles that made up The Horror uncurled themselves and swung themselves at anything in arms’ reach, responding to their host’s distress. Diego took up Luther’s cry for mom. Allison turned another shade greener. Luther fought to keep himself out of the path of The Horror. 

Just in time, Grace burst out the front door with a gurney, Pogo at her side. She hoisted Ben up onto the gurney, wrestling the straps around The Horror as best she could. She turned back to Luther, who was clearly shaken, and embraced him. It was only for a millisecond, but Klaus could swear she was staring daggers at Reginald over Luther’s shoulder. Grace pulled away, gently placing a kiss on Luther’s forehead before turning and wheeling the gurney through the front doors. Pogo gathered the others, taking Diego’s hand (which the boy _never_ allowed) and led all three inside. 

It was only as the heavy wooden doors slammed shut that Klaus came to his senses. Klaus scrambled up from his seat and back through the window into the house, completely forgetting that he could phase through walls. As Klaus hurried down to the infirmary, he tried to calm his nerves. His brother wasn’t dead. Whatever hell he’d been through on that mission, he’d survived it. Klaus reached the hallway outside of the infirmary. None of the other siblings were ever allowed inside when one of them was this badly injured. Over the years, there had been a lot of long nights huddled outside the infirmary doors, waiting to know whoever was inside had pulled through. 

Klaus inched close to his siblings. Diego sat and bounced his leg. He nervously picked at his nails, a habit since he was little. Luther had slumped down against the wall, his uniform smeared with, well, whoever’s blood Ben was covered in. Allison shifted back and forth in her spot next to Luther. She pursed her lips and stood up. 

“I’m gonna get Vanya. She’d want to know.” Alison looked to her brothers like she was asking their permission. Luther nodded his head slowly, not lifting his gaze from the carpet. Diego said nothing. Klaus couldn’t even tell if he’d heard her. “Okay,” Allison muttered, more to herself than anyone else, then turned and hurried down the hall.

The two brothers remained silent. For the first time since he died, Klaus wished they could see and hear him. He _needed_ to know what had happened on their mission. As if on cue, Luther spoke.

“We said we wanted to help him. _Why_ didn’t he let us help him?”

“It wasn’t up to him, you know that. Dad’s orders,” Diego responded as he kept picking at his nails.

“So dad would rather Ben almost die than make him look bad.”

“Of fucking course he would, have you not been paying attention, Number One?”

Luther bristled at the use of that name. He sighed.

“Can’t dad see he’s making everything worse? First with.. with Klaus, and now this? What does he think he’s proving, breaking them like that?” 

The two sat in silence again.

“Ben’s never gonna tell us what happened to him, is he? Solo mission, my ass. Dad never does solo missions. He just wanted to bully him,” Diego mumbled.

“Of course he won’t tell us, dad’s got him too scared.”

“I’m scared for him, Luther.” Diego’s voice was the gentlest Klaus had ever heard it. 

“Me too. Don’t worry, we’ll do something, even if dad tries to stop us. We won’t let what happened to..” Luther’s voice trailed off. _We won’t let what happened to Klaus happen again._ Diego lifted his head and met Luther’s gaze. The two couldn’t bring themselves to smile, they were too exhausted and too scared. But the brothers felt closer than they had in a long time, as they sat in silence waiting for their sisters. 

_That was the answer, then,_ Klaus thought to himself. _Nobody else knows anything about the mission because Ben was all on his own. And his brothers were right, there’s no way he’d tell any of them what’d happened to him._ Klaus slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor, preparing himself for the long wait until Ben was patched up and released from the infirmary. 

“Wait a fucking minute,” Klaus exclaimed to the silent room. He jumped back to his feet and hurried over to the infirmary doors. “I have like, actual superpowers now. God, I’m stupid.” Klaus barely flinched as he strode forward, right through the doors and out the other side. 

All the lights in the infirmary were off, except for one over the table Grace used for surgery. Their mother had her back to Klaus, hiding Ben from his view. Klaus slowly approached the two, afraid of what he might see. Ben’s skin had been wiped clean from blood, which meant only now could Klaus see how pale and feverish he looked. Klaus knew so little about how Ben’s powers worked, but the boy always looked a little weak after missions. He’d resented it, but always leaned on Klaus for support when he offered. But now, he looked inches from death.

Grace hummed to herself as she unbuttoned Ben’s shirt and got started on her chore of cleaning Ben’s stomach wounds. Klaus winced. He’d seen what summoning The Horror did to his brother before, but never up close like this. Ben guarded that secret with his life, and now Klaus could see why. His entire abdomen was covered with holes that looked like buckshot, but almost as big as his palm. The edges were red and angry, and the holes themselves looked multiple inches deep. Blood gently flowed down his sides. It would have stained his clothes if they weren’t already completely soaked. Grace dabbed at the wounds, and before the skin was flooded with blood again, Klaus could see his brother’s skin was pockmarked with other holes. There was barely an inch of his stomach that wasn’t scarred. 

Grace continued humming and working, shockingly unperturbed as she wiped (jesus christ is that _brain?_ ) away with a washcloth. She plunged the cloth back into a bowl of hot water and then dabbed at Ben’s wounds. Ben flinched and let out a cry in his sleep, and a single tentacle punched out. Again unphased, Grace batted it away as it reached for a scalpel on her work table. She pulled open a drawer, grabbed a syringe, and injected its contents into the tentacle, which sluggishly drew back into Ben’s stomach and disappeared. 

Grace looked at the blood pooling on the table and pursed her lips. She peeled off Ben’s shirt, gently lifting him up and placing a clean towel under him. Then, she grabbed the washcloth and wiped away the last few smears of blood. Grace finished up, lifting up her son again so she could wrap gauze around his torso, and smoothing his hair as she injected some kind of sedative into his arm. Ben’s face relaxed as he slipped into much-needed sleep. 

Grace gave the sleeping boy a look of pity ( _Maybe Diego was right about her being conscious, after all_ ) and hoisted him into a waiting wheelchair as gently as she could. Klaus trailed behind as she wheeled Ben through the infirmary doors and back into the hallway, where all four of their siblings were now waiting. They all had bolted to their feet and were looking to their mother for answers. 

“Just let him rest for now, please. He’ll have plenty of time to answer your questions tomorrow, if he wants to,” Grace said before they could open their mouths. The siblings looked away, a little bit ashamed. Unsure what to do with themselves, they stayed standing in the hallway as their mother wheeled their brother up to his room. Klaus followed in silence. He knew he was probably the only one who could get a solid answer out of Ben about what happened on his mission. But he also knew that he sucked at talking to his brother. Ben probably hadn’t gotten over their fight yesterday, either. But he had to say something, because the only one who sucked at communication worse than his was his siblings. _This is gonna suck,_ Klaus thought as the group arrived at Ben’s bedroom. 

Klaus glanced away as Grace changed his sleeping brother out of the rest of his bloody uniform and into pajamas. She then tucked him into bed, as Klaus joined her at the bedside. The two of them stopped at the same time, as they noticed the pink lines that crisscrossed the boy’s arms. Before Klaus could stare for too long, Grace pulled Ben’s blankets up to his chin and left the room. 

Klaus sat down on the end of Ben’s bed. He put his head in his hands and tried to process everything. Every time he thought he knew the worst of his brother’s secrets, there was something else. First with the scars on his stomach ( _ is that what happened  _ every  _ time he used his powers? _ ) and now these… others. 

“Shit, Ben,” Klaus sighed as he rubbed his eyes. Self-harm scars weren’t a new thing to him, half the kids he smoked with wore long sleeves year-round to hide them. Others who were beyond caring for one reason or another didn’t bother to cover up. Klaus’d thought he’d seen the worst of them. But Ben? Something about the fact that he’d had absolutely no idea made Klaus’ heart ache. It was hypocritical of him, but he didn’t care. He promised himself that he would bring it up with Ben the second he woke up. Whenever that was, his brother looked out cold.

Klaus sighed again. He was the least qualified person to give Ben a lecture about self-destructive behavior. He wasn’t even done being pissed at him yet. Klaus looked back at his sleeping brother. Well, anyway, at least he had a while before he woke up, which meant he had a while to come up with what the hell he was going to say. 

This whole situation was making Klaus anxious, and when he got anxious, he got fidgety. And claustrophobic. Klaus had a working theory it had something to do with the solitary confinement torture he’d had since childhood. Ben’s bedroom wasn’t small, but Klaus itched to leave. He needed out, to pace through the halls of the Umbrella Academy like he had so many times after his hours of mausoleum training were over. To remind himself that the world was more than unforgiving stone walls and screaming ghosts. 

“I’m going out, you need anything, Ben?” No response, obviously. “Jesus, that was stupid, even for me. Sorry. I’ll be back soon, okay?” Ben curled up in his sleep.

“Okay.” Klaus left his brother’s bedroom, promising to himself to not be gone too long this time. Too many bad things happened when he did. 

  
  



	9. The Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben pushes his siblings away when they try to help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone guessed "more bad things happen when Ben is left alone" you'd be right

Ben woke up with his entire body aching. His head throbbed and he felt like he hadn’t had anything to drink in years. Ben couldn’t gather enough strength to lift his head and check his clock, but the bright sunlight pouring through his window told him it was well into the afternoon. He’d be in huge trouble for sleeping in and wasting the day. Maybe he had come down with something, and that’s why he was still in bed. Ben lifted a hand up and inspected it. It was pink from having been scrubbed clean, but there was still dried blood under his fingernails. 

Ben drew himself up into a seated position and winced. The skin on his stomach burned as it brushed against his pajamas. The last 24 hours came back to Ben as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. His arms ached and his fingers fumbled with the buttons, like they didn’t want to see what was underneath any more than he did. Blood bloomed across the fabric. Ben cursed under his breath; That tiny amount of movement must have broken the skin open again. Usually he only took a couple of hours to heal, but doing… everything at the hospital must have drained his body so much that his healing powers gave up on him. _Was that even possible?_

With unsteady hands, Ben opened his pajama shirt to reveal the carnage underneath. Ben stifled a gasp; The holes in his skin looked fresh, incredibly fresh. Like they hadn’t healed at _all_. His stomach was red and inflamed, making the years’ worth of scars stand out even more. The skin around the holes was so red it was almost purple. The holes themselves hadn’t shrunk an inch, they were still impossibly deep and slowly leaking blood. 

Normally, it took a lot more than just blood to make Ben uneasy. He saw too much carnage, _caused_ too much carnage, to let it affect him. But now, as he watched his own blood stain his sheets, all he could see was what he’d done in the boiler room. The memories came back to him, in so much more detail than when they happened. How could he have forgotten the cracking of broken bones, the ringing of limp bodies slammed against steel pipes, the screaming. Grown men, screaming, because of him. And that little girl. She was so small, and so scared. He’d promised to protect her. He should have known that was a lie. All he was good for was damage. Dad knew it, all along. Maybe it was stupid to pretend to be anything else.

Ben’s stomach churned. He felt nauseous, and the smell of blood didn’t help. He tried to control his breathing, turn his head to look at something else, anything else. Lucky for him, Ben got a distraction when there was a knock on the door. Unlucky for him, it was Reginald Hargreeves.

His father didn’t wait for permission to enter after knocking, he came right in. He never asked permission from his children to do anything, just like he never considered them worthy of privacy. Despite this, Reginald made a point of never entering his children's’ rooms. He avoided any interactions that might be confused for parental affection. And he didn’t show them an ounce of familiarity more than absolutely necessary. As children, his coldness upset them. But as they got older, the Hargreeves siblings were grateful for this tiny part of their lives that their father wanted no part of. Which is why Reginald’s presence in his son’s room did nothing to help with Ben’s growing anxiety.

Reginald shut the door behind him and took a couple steps into the room. He stood there stiffly, like he didn’t like the idea of being there any more than Ben did. The man didn’t meet his son’s eyes, he just stared at the wounds in his stomach. Not with concern, he never showed concern. More like one watching a science experiment unfold, or a pet who’d run away and come limping back days later with a missing leg.

For a second, Ben itched to cover himself up, give himself any ounce of privacy from his father. But he’d rather the man stare at his wounds than his face. Reginald was incredible at picking apart his children's’ expressions, and Ben was much too exhausted to keep his face steady.

“How much do you remember of the mission yesterday?’ Reginald began. Straight to business, as usual. 

“Enough,” Ben mumbled. 

“Speak up, and stop with the vague answers. They waste both of our time.”

“I can fill out a report if you need me to. I’d hate to waste your time by explaining it all.”

“No need,” Reginald glanced at his son’s confused face. “Really, Number Six. I’d expect this level of unintelligence from Number One, not you. Like any respectable business, hospitals have security cameras everywhere, including basements. While your siblings waited in the car, I monitored your progress through the monitors in the control room. So that in the case of your failure, your siblings could step in and fix your mistake.”

“Oh.” Ben felt like an idiot. Of _course_ there were cameras. Which meant, somewhere, there was footage of what happened that day, of the things Ben had done. The thought of anyone seeing that side of him was enough to make Ben’s nausea come back full force. And of _course,_ of all the people to see it, his father had. He might as well just add it to the pile of blackmail material.

“Overall, you gave a decent performance. However, near the end, the anger you displayed could only be described as childish. It made you sloppy. We’ll have to correct that for the future.” Ben’s cheeks burned. “Your failure to save that young girl is regrettable. I trained you better than that. Her parents will be suitably compensated for her sacrifice, of course.”

“Sacrifice,” Ben spat out. 

“Need I remind you that she needn’t have been sacrificed at all, if you had done your job properly. You of all people should know by now the meaning of sacrificing one life for the sake of countless others. Unless this little girl is the only life you’ve ended that mattered to you.” Ben flinched. “Lucky for you, there will be plenty of opportunities to make up for this failure. It is clear from what I saw of your solo mission that you bring much more to the Umbrella Academy than I initially thought. That is an error I will not make again.”

“What does that mean?” Ben knew what it meant. Reginald stayed silent. “Okay, I’ll do it,” Ben took a deep breath. “I’ll do more solo missions. I’ll pull my own weight.”

“I wasn’t asking your permission. And there will be no more solo missions. The world needs to see how powerful the Umbrella Academy really is. What’s more, we need this, to begin to make up for the blow Number Four made to our reputation.”

“I’d hate for your son’s death to ruin _our_ reputation,” Ben spat again.

“Again, I’m not asking your permission. You will do as I say,” Reginald raised his voice. “Countless others will die if you remain too selfish to harness your true potential.” He looked his son up and down. “The death of one meaningless child has rendered you completely pathetic.” Ben opened his mouth but was cut off, “How do you expect to shirk your duty to humanity, cause much more pointless suffering, and still live with yourself?’ Reginald turned and walked back to the door, opening it and glancing back to get one last word in. “Tomorrow morning, the Umbrella Academy will embark on a mission designed to show your newfound strength to the world. You have until then to make peace with that.” He punctuated the sentence by slamming the door behind him, leaving Ben alone again.

The second his door shut, Ben lost all composure. He didn’t even try to steady his breathing. He just sat there, stomach still bleeding, staring at the sheets crumpled up in his fists. The weight of everything he did in that hospital basement came crashing down around him. He killed _so many_ people, and in _horrible_ ways. Not because he had to; Ben knew how to disarm, how to knock enemies unconscious. He’d killed them because he’d wanted to, because he was angry and childish. 

  
What was worse, the part that scared him the most, was the suited man in the boiler room. Their leader, the coward who’d kidnapped that girl. Because Ben hadn’t just aimed The Horror in his direction and let it do the rest. He’d told it what to do, and it listened to him. Ben’s whole life, he’d been terrified of the monster inside his stomach. It had no consciousness, no humanity, wanted nothing but carnage from the moment it ripped through him. And it could never be controlled. It was the one comfort Ben had, knowing that The Horror could not be reasoned with. Ben was powerless to stop the massacres The Horror caused. But now that was a lie. Fear crept into Ben’s thoughts. _What if it had always been a lie? Could Ben have controlled The Horror if he’d really wanted to? He just didn’t because he enjoyed the carnage, deep down?_ And of all people to see the darkest side of him, _why_ did it have to be dad? The only person who could make Ben feel more horrible about himself than he did?

And now, because of his father, Ben was a ticking time bomb. He’d _promised_ to reveal Ben’s true powers tomorrow. Ben ran his hands through his hair nervously. All his hard work suffering in secret, hiding everything from his family when he could have gone to them for support, was for nothing. He’d tread on eggshells and did everything his father said for _weeks_ , and that was for nothing, too. In less than 24 hours, his siblings would finally know him, and they would hate him. Not just his family, either. The entire world would see the carnage and suffering Ben was capable of. There was nothing he could do to stop what Reginald had started. Ben was living his last few hours on earth where he was seen as anything but a monster. Ben’s heart pounded in his chest. He felt like a hunted animal, exhausted from running but still desperately fighting for its life. But in Ben’s case he could never run fast enough. He was dead from the second he started running. 

Ben jumped as Klaus phased through his door, rambling as he did. He quickly tucked his sheet up over his stomach.

“-I gotta apologize, Ben. I was trying to be useful for once and steal you something from the kitchen, but my ghost magic doesn’t seem to be working anymore. Maybe all it’s good for is throwing shit at your head, could we try that again-?” Klaus stopped when he saw his brother’s face. “You look like ass, what happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ben sighed.

“We are _way_ past that, Benny.” Klaus plopped down on the edge of the bed. “Spill it.”

Ben rolled his eyes and looked over at his brother, who was trying his best to put on a concerned expression. 

“Dad made a visit.”

“Shit, here? Gross. What did he say?” 

“He was proud of me. Or as much as that man ever can be.” That got Klaus off guard. Now he _was_ concerned. What could Ben have possibly done to impress a monster like their father? Despite his better judgement, Klaus pushed Ben further.

“Do you wanna talk about what happened? On your solo mission?” Ben flinched. 

“I’m fine.” 

“You’re a shitty liar, Ben. You always have been.”

“I said I’m fine, I mean it.” Blood bloomed across Ben’s sheets and he swore, pulling them back to reveal his wounds, freshly bleeding.

“Jesus christ, Ben. Is it always that bad?”

“Yes, it is,” Ben grumbled. “Stop treating me like a little kid.”

“First of all, I’m not treating you like a kid, I’m worried about my brother, who currently has a _lot_ of holes in him. Second, you’re lying again. It is _not_ always that bad. You need to talk to me, Ben. You can’t keep bottling this shit up. Or else-”

“Or else what?” Ben’s brow furrowed. The two were silent.

“I gotta tell you, before you woke up, I saw-” Klaus was cut off by a knock on the door.

“Ben? Can we come in?” Came Diego’s muffled voice. Ben turned to his brother, still sitting on the edge of his bed. _“We?”_ Klaus mouthed, raising an eyebrow.

“Klaus, could you make yourself scarce for a little bit? Please?” His face was so pained it took Klaus by surprise. 

“Uh, sure. Yeah. You’ll be okay though, right?” Klaus phased halfway through the bedroom wall, before stopping and smacking his forehead with his palm. “Oh, right! My bad, you’re always fine.” 

“Scram,” Ben pointed to the wall. Klaus phased the rest of the way through the wall and was gone.

“Ben?” Diego’s voice came again. Ben hastily buttoned his pajama shirt before looking down at the bloodstains on it, and his sheets. He cursed to himself and reached for his blanket. His muscles were still sore, which led to more cursing as he hoisted it up over his stomach. 

“Okay, come in,” Ben called. Diego gently swung the door open. Behind him were their other siblings, all crowded in the hallway. The sight of everyone, with expressions so full of pity, set Ben on edge. Or rather, even more on edge than he already was. 

“You guys need something?” He asked bluntly. Diego took a step forward.

“We came to see if you needed anything. Mom was busy, and we knew you’d be bedridden for a while, recovering, so we figured we’d… check.” Diego said, a bit sheepishly.

“All four of you wanted to know if I needed anything?” 

Allison piped up next. 

“We wanted to make sure you were okay, Ben. After… whatever happened to you yesterday. Dad won’t tell us what happened and-” she put her hands up in a kind of surrender “-you don’t have to. That’s fine. But you suffered through something traumatic, that much is clear. But Ben,” she came forward to join Diego, “You don’t have to work through it alone.”

That meant Reginald hadn’t told them all what had happened in the hospital yet, if they were still prying him for information about his mission and slathering on crap about how he was a “victim”. They’d feel real stupid when they found out the truth. 

Ben’s skin started to crawl. His siblings were starting to freak him out, and the way they were starting to crowd around his bed made him feel claustrophobic. He was exhausted, aching all over, and still reeling from what his father had told him. Ben felt his heart start to race. His lungs tightened, like he was fighting to get air.

“Give him some space, you guys,” Luther said as he came in from the hallway. The two returned to the doorway as Luther met his brother’s eyes. “Ben, when you came out of the hospital, and just  _ collapsed  _ like that, I thought you were dead. You scared me.” There was a softness in Luther’s expression that Ben had never seen before. Not a good trait in Number One, but it was in a big brother. “Whatever dad made you do in there, it almost destroyed you. I don’t care what dad says, you’re never gonna be put through that again. We-” he turned back to look at his siblings, “-won’t let him.” 

Ben stared at his blankets. These were probably the last kind words his siblings would ever say to him. The thought made his chest ache. 

“You don’t understand. None of you do.” 

“Of course we do,” Allison’s voice was soft. And patronizing.

“No. You don’t. You don’t know the  _ hell _ that-” Ben cut himself off. He was exhausted, too exhausted to keep all of it in any longer. He fought to keep himself calm, but he was failing. 

“Then help us understand, Ben.” Diego’s voice was gentle, too. It infuriated him. 

“No, of course you don’t understand. You never bothered to ‘check in’ on me until Klaus killed himself. Because you felt guilty. You didn’t stand up to dad because you were too scared he’d punish you as much as he was punishing me.  _ And  _ Klaus.” Ben was almost yelling now.

“Hey, that’s not fair-” Luther started. 

“No? Dad wouldn’t have bullied me at  _ all _ if you had an  _ ounce _ of common sense or compassion left in that thick head of yours. You just  _ had _ to fight my battles for me, you couldn’t be a control freak for one single second. Well, I don’t want you to. You don’t know me, none of you do. You wouldn’t like me even if you’d wanted to. Well, good news, you don’t have to pretend to care about me anymore. I’m done.”

Ben looked up at his siblings. Their expressions had changed from pity to shock. Everyone stood frozen where they were, except for Vanya. She had been hanging back in the doorway, but slowly came forward. She passed her other siblings, ignoring their worried glances, and stopped right at the foot of Ben’s bed. 

“Ben, look at me.” Her voice was so calm and commanding that Ben immediately looked up to meet her gaze. “You are my brother, and I love you. There is nothing in this world that you could do that would change that. You’ve been suffering in silence for  _ so long _ , and I am so sorry that you had to do that. I’m sorry we made you feel like you couldn’t come to us with all this. Nobody deserves to feel like they have to carry all their problems by themselves.”

“I do. I’m a monster.” Ben’s voice was barely audible. He dropped his gaze down to his hands, the blood of his victims still under his fingernails. 

“You’re not a monster, you’re my brother,” Vanya whispered back. Ben’s cheeks burned with shame. He’d done the only thing worse than making his siblings hate him; he’d tricked them into loving him. 

“I don’t deserve that.” Ben’s voice was choking up. 

“Of course you do,” came Vanya’s soft reply. 

“You don’t understand, I keep telling you but you won’t listen.” Ben’s shame grew in his chest. 

“Ben-”

“No! You don’t know me, you say you do but you don’t!” Ben’s voice rose into frantic yelling. “You don’t know how many people are dead because of me!”

“Ben, what did you  _ do _ yesterday?” Diego’s voice was small. Ben put his head in his hands. He couldn’t look at his siblings’ faces.  _ What did he just do? What the hell was wrong with him? _ Ben frantically tried to undo the damage.

“Shit. Forget I said anything, I was overreacting. Shit. Shit.” They didn’t believe him. Of course they didn’t. He’d been so worried about Reginald blowing his cover and he did it  _ himself _ . 

“Ben, please, talk to us.” Allison spoke.

“No, I can’t. Please. I’m fine, I promise. I’m fine.” Ben’s voice shook. His stomach churned. 

“Ben-” Luther started. 

“I said, I’m  _ fine! _ ” Ben’s voice came out as a panicked scream. 

It happened faster than Ben could react. He didn’t mean to do it, of course he didn’t. It just moved  _ so fast.  _ Maybe because the holes in Ben’s stomach hadn’t healed over yet, so it met less resistance. Maybe because it had been feeding on his anxiety all day, growing stronger. He didn’t know. Lucky for Vanya, Luther was faster. The boy dove forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and flinging her off to the side and out of the way of The Horror’s trajectory. Just as he did, the largest tentacle slammed into Luther’s chest and sent him flying across the room, through the doorway, and into the hall. Luther smacked into the wall with a sickening  _ crack _ . He gasped for air as he crumpled to the floor. The Horror immediately shrunk back into its host.

“Luther!” Allison shrieked, running to her brother’s side. Vanya drew herself up from the floor and scrambled over to help Allison. 

Ben couldn’t move. He watched what happened next like he was in a trance. None of it felt  _ real _ . He sat frozen in shock as Allison fussed over her brother, as Vanya ran off and came back with Grace, as they helped Luther to his feet and half-carried, half-dragged him away. Diego hadn’t moved. His face was stony.

“I didn’t mean to…” Ben croaked. He felt like there was a marble in his throat. Hot tears stung his eyes, streamed down his face. What could he possibly say? “Please, Diego-” His brother flinched when Ben said his name, “-say something. Anything. Tell me you hate me, it’s okay, you should. Just please, talk to me. Please.” Ben sniffled. Diego sighed, turned, and left the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. The second he was alone, Ben broke out into sobs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like my pun in the chapter summary?


End file.
